Peace, Love, and Family
by Selune
Summary: Fusion with Harry Potter. The Gundam Pilots go to Hogwarts. 2x1, HarryNeville. Full summary inside.
1. In the Beginning

Disclaimer: I do not own any things Harry Potter—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to the wonderful J. K. Rowling and whomever else she decides. I do not own anything Gundam Wing—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to (I think) Bandai and Sunrise.

Spoilers: This fic contains spoilers for books 1-5 of Harry Potter and all of the episodes of Gundam Wing. This fic does not include Endless Waltz.

Rating: R

Pairings: Neville/Harry, 2x1

Summary: Two years ago, the One Year War ended. At this time, the five heroes—the Gundam pilots—disappeared from the Muggle world. Three of them—pilots 02, 03, and 05—reappeared shortly after in the Wizarding world, as students at Hogwarts School of Witchraft and Wizardry. Now, twenty months after the fact, Heero Yuy and Quatre Winner are coming to Hogwarts, and they're bringing all of their secrets with them. The world—especially one Harry Potter—will never be the same.

Peace, Love, and Family: 

The Story of the Vanuli Three

Prologue: In the Beginning

_Once upon a time, not so very long ago, three very special children were born. These children, born of the heir of the clan LeFey, were the first ever Vanuli triplets in existence. The clan LeFey rejoiced upon their arrival, for it was said that triplets—infraternal though they were—were very powerful, indeed. _   
  
_Many plans were made for the children, as both the new heirs and a future triumvirate. Sadly, the plans were not to come to fruition. On the day of their births, four men came to the mother—they wanted to take the triplets. Being a woman, she knew that it was her duty to give her sons to their rightful fathers, as three of them were. One of the men—the only one whose seed did not create a child--wished to take all three with him, for it was with his magic that the children had been created. However, the mother knew that the man was a very evil man indeed and would use her children to his own devices. Knowing this, she did the only thing she could; she gave one child to each of the fathers. With this done, she effectively protected two of her children from the man._   
  
_The Vanuli world weeped when it discovered what had happened. However, after weeks of grief, a lowly Seer came forward. She said to the clan one sentence, but it was enough to bring joy to the bereaved peoples. She said to them, "On the night of their maturation, the Vanuli three will rise up and defeat two great evils."_

December 31, AC 195

The war was over. Kushrenada was dead, and the world was beginning to rebuild. Muggles everywhere rejoiced—as did Muggle-borns. However, it was but one war ended. Another, more concerning war was on the horizon, and a few Muggle-borns knew that, at any time, they might be called upon to fight. Not just for their freedom, but for their very lives.

The Gundam pilots—those children most responsible for the end of the war—were at one of Quatre Winner's homes on Earth, resting. One of the thirty Winner children—a healer by the name of Madrigal—had set about healing the their injuries. The pilots were—with the exception of one—all wizards, but they were not among those who knew of the return of the Dark Lord Voldemort. Thus, thinking their service of war was done, they went about deciding what to do with the rest of their lives. The boys were awarded a pension by the Organization for Earth-Colony Alliance, an organization formed—surprisingly—by Dorothy Catalonia after the fall of OZ and the White Fang. If they chose do so, the ex-pilots wouldn't have to work another day in their lives. 

Quatre Winner, pilot of Sandrock, decided to attend his family school, Winner School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. His entire family had gone there, and he felt it to be one last tribute to his departed father. He offered full scholarships to the three other wizards, but they declined.

Duo Maxwell, pilot of Deathscythe, applied as a transfer student to several magicing schools. Many of them never took transfers, but he already had received several favorable responses. He hoped to get into Beauxbatons.

Trowa Barton, pilot of Heavyarms, planned to go back to the circus. Having just found out the Catherine Bloom was his biological sister, he longed to get to know the family he'd never dreamed of having.

Wufei Chang, pilot of Shenlong, was to go to his ancestors' native China. He had discovered his family's ancestral home and wished to repair it.

Heero Yuy, the pilot of Wing, had been accepted and enrolled into an engineering school on L1. Being the only Squib of the group, he realized that he might never be accepted into the wizarding world proper, and thus settled for living in the Muggle world for the rest of his life.

In one week, the boys were all to go their separate ways, maybe so far away that they might never see each other again.

***

Heero walked out onto the balcony of his and Duo's shared room and sat down beside Duo. They dangled their legs over the ledge; after all, they were only two floors up. Duo, being the more forward of the two—relationship-wise, anyway—inched his hands over to grasp Heero's. That was Heero's cue to lay his head on Duo's shoulder. The two had begun a tentative relationship months ago—after Heero rescued Duo from the OZ base—back when everything was a fight for survival, and none of them were sure they would live to see the next day. As a result of being together for so long during such stressful times, Heero and Duo had developed a sort of "sixth-sense" in regard to each other.

Heero knew that Duo was worried about what would happen between the two of them after the week was up. Hell, he himself was scared to death that he'd never see Duo again. Heero raised Duo hand to his lips and kissed it, trying to dispel part of their concern. 

"Happy New Year," Heero said to Duo as the clock struck twelve, trying to inject some sense of normality into the otherwise tense situation. "Did you make any resolutions?"

"Yeah," Duo said, unclasping his hand from Heero's. He brought an arm around Heero's shoulders and pulled his boyfriend tighter to him. The action made Heero think that Duo was trying to somehow pull him _into_ Duo. He knew it was pathetic, but it was pathetically sweet. It made him feel better. Loved.

"And since I plan on them coming true anyway, I suppose I should go ahead and tell you. Actually, babe, I'll just read them to you," Duo said, and Heero supposed he didn't hear a hint of sadness in Duo's voice. Duo dug around in his pants pocket for a minute before pulling out a yellow, wadded-up piece of paper. He smoothed it out and turned to Heero.

" 'I, Duo Maxwell,' " he read, " 'resolve to to e-mail, owl, fire-call, or in some other way communicate with Heero Yuy at least twice a week for the next six months, until summer comes, and I can be with him again. I resolve to not look at any other man—or woman—as there would really be no point anyway. Heero Yuy is the sexiest son of a bitch in the universe and to compare anyone else to him would just be wrong and sad. I resolve to _not cut my hair, _no matter how much I may want to, because I know how much Heero loves it. Above all else, I resolve to bug Heero so much that—even if he is constantly bombarded with Muggle Adonises dropping in his lap and offering to feed him grapes while their identical twin brothers fan him—he will not forget me, and will be so overcome with guilt if he does, that he will send me naked pictures of himself doing naughty stuff with fun toys.' "

Heero was laughing so hard by the time Duo finished—hard for Heero, anyway. His laugh was so low that no other than Duo could hear him doing something so un-Heeroish. As the force of suppressing his laugh made him convulse, he grabbed onto Duo's shirt and buried his face in the other's neck. 

_I really wish that I could make your resolutions come true, _Heero thought, sadly, after he'd gotten his laughter under control, _but that's not going to happen. I'm not going where you think I am, and I can't tell you where I _am _going. There's too much at stake, and Quatre's right. You'll never understand._

"I made a resolution, too, Duo," Heero said, his voice thick with sorrow, which he hoped Duo would mistake as a consequence of his laughter. He kissed Duo's neck, hoping to bring both of their attention away from the fact that they would be leaving each other in a week. Heero licked Duo's neck and purred when it elicited the desired response. "Well, it's actually more of a fantasy..." Heero trailed off when he noticed Duo looking at him lecherously. "Oh, you've had that fantasy, too?"

Heero disengaged himself from his boyfriend and strutted into their room, shaking his ass in just the way Duo liked. Duo growled—quite sexily, Heero thought—and took after him like a shot. Heero was on the bed, spread out wantonly, by the time Duo entered the room. Heero smirked mischievously up at Duo and brought one sock-clad foot up to rest on the quilt.

"Lock the door, Duo," Heero said in his huskiest bedroom voice, which—he had to admit—was quite the lust-inducer in his boyfriend. "Then come over here and play with me."

Duo visibly twitched at that. He barely took his eyes off Heero as he locked the door and turned off the lights.

Tonight, Heero planned to go farther with Duo than he ever had before. As long as they'd been together, Heero and Duo had never done more than jerk off each together. Heero knew Duo wanted to go farther—he could see it in his eyes every time Heero made him stop—but he would be able to do it. Tonight, Heero planned to give himself over to Duo, to show just how much he cared for the other.

"Mmm, Duo, why are you all the way over there?" Heero purred when he realized that Duo had stopped and was just standing by the bed, staring at Heero. Heero fumbled for the buttons on his shirt, spreading his legs further. "Come over here and help me get this off." 

EDITED

go to l i v e j o u r n a l. c o m / s e l u n e 2 / 3 2 2 4 . h t m l for the NC17 version, without the spaces, of course

EDITED

"Good night," Heero whispered before cuddling up to Duo. Sex always made him dead tired.

"Happy New Year," Duo responded. "I love you."

Heero smiled. Maybe he could find a way to make this work out.

***

_BANG! BANG, BANG, BANG!_

Heero lifted his head drowsily from Duo's chest. What was that noise?That awful, horrible, _loud_ noise? Heero stood up slowly—so as not to wake Duo, though if that noise didn't wake him, nothing short of an atomic blast would—and went to discover the source of the commotion.

_Bang!_

Heero heard it again—only a little quieter than before—but this time, he could make out that it was someone knocking at the door. He went over to answer it, only to find that it was Quatre.

"What do you want, Quat?" Heero asked grouchily, noticing that Quatre was looking at him funny. Heero loved Quatre dearly, but one did not just come banging on another's door before the sun even came up and expect a happy admission. 

"The Maguanacs have found someone to, er, _help_ you with your problem, but there's been a complication," Quatre said, sweeping into the room. "The man in question demands to speak with you."

"So, what's the problem?" Heero asked. "I'll just talk to him next week. We planned on looking for someone to _help_ me then. That'll just save us the trouble, and we can get right down to the helping."

"And, see, that's the problem." Quatre said. "He wants to talk you now, not next week. As in ASAP."

"He's just going to have to wait," Heero said, panic rising in his voice as he realized what Quatre meant. Now wasn't as soon as possible. Next week was as soon as possible. He was supposed to have another week with Duo!

"He won't," Quatre insisted. "He wants to talk with you before midnight, or he'll walk out. The Maguanacs don't have the power to hold him if he wants to leave." Quatre looked at Heero pleadingly. "_Please_, Heero, we need to leave now."

"I can't even say goodbye?" Heero asked, knowing the answer before he even asked the question.

Quatre shook his head. "I'm sorry, but that would take time we don't have." Quatre hugged Heero in an almost-but-not-quite-bone-crushing hug. "I'll be waiting in the foyer while you pack, then we'll go. And, uh, put some clothes on."

Heero looked down at himself and flushed bright red as Quatre walked out of the room. He was completely naked, with love bites covering many parts of his body.

He got over his embarrassment quickly, though, as he realized that they were the last marks Duo would ever place on him. Tears slipped down his face as the full knowledge of all the things he and Duo wouldn't get to do together came crashing down upon him. They'd never cuddle on a loveseat as their friends teased them about their massive PDAs. They'd never walk on a beach with the waves crashing around their ankles, not worrying about OZ soldiers finding and attacking them. They'd never go on their first date in a public place, or do anything else together ever again. 

Heero fell to his knees at the side of the bed and stared at Duo. He ran his fingers over his lover's face—from his forehead to his wide cobalt eyes (closed now), to his cute nose, to his full lips, just begging to be kissed. So Heero did.

"_Ai shiteru_," Heero whispered against Duo's mouth, admitting to himself for the first time that it really was true. He loved Duo. Even though he'd never told him that, Heero hoped that, somehow, Duo knew. "Maybe, someday, we can be together again."

Heero kissed Duo one last time and rose from the floor. He went to their pile of clothes—the Nudity Charm, designed to strip one quick and in a hurry, had piled their clothes in a big mess—and took out his clothes. He put them on, and his shoes, and left the room. He didn't really want anything here—with the exception of Duo, and that he couldn't have. They could get him anything he might need on L1.

Heero stepped into the foyer and saw Quatre standing there, looking at him with something akin to pity in his eyes. Heero tried not to look at him, didn't want to see what he knew was there.

"I wish you hadn't done that, hadn't slept with him," Quatre said to Heero as he gathered his own bags. "You know if he finds out, he'll never understand."

Nodding, Heero grabbed a suitcase. Heero knew that Duo wouldn't understand, period. He wouldn't know why Heero left him because Heero didn't tell him. 

They stepped out of the house to the car that would take to them to the shuttle port and out of Duo's life. As Heero got into the car alongside Quatre and his sister Maddy, he looked back at the mansion, the last place he would ever see Duo Maxwell. His one and only Shinigami.

Selune


	2. First Meeting Between Brothers

Disclaimer: I do not own any things Harry Potter—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to the wonderful J. K. Rowling and whomever else she decides. I do not own anything Gundam Wing—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to (I think) Bandai and Sunrise.

Spoilers: This fic contains spoilers for books 1-5 of Harry Potter and all of the episodes of Gundam Wing. This fic does not include Endless Waltz.

Rating: R

Pairings: Neville/Harry, 2x1

Summary: Two years ago, the One Year War ended. At this time, the five heroes—the Gundam pilots—disappeared from the Muggle world. Three of them—pilots 02, 03, and 05—reappeared shortly after in the Wizarding world, as students at Hogwarts School of Witchraft and Wizardry. Now, twenty months after the fact, Heero Yuy and Quatre Winner are coming to Hogwarts, and they're bringing all of their secrets with them. The world—especially one Harry Potter—will never be the same.

Peace, Love, and Family: 

The Story of the Vanuli Three

Chapter 1: First Meeting Between Brothers

September 1, AC 197

"Well, mate, I'll see you in a bit," Ron Weasley said to his best friend, Harry, before leaving said friend to go to the prefect's car.

Harry knew that Ron—and Hermione, their other best friend—had to go to the prefect's car, at least for a little while. Harry knew that, as prefects, his friends had to check in with the Head Boy and Girl and get their instructions. He also knew that, as soon as they could, Ron and Hermione would come find Harry. But he couldn't help resenting that he would not only have to find an empty car—so that no one would interrupt the three of them when Ron and Hermione finally showed up—but that he'd also have to be alone until they got there.

Harry hated being alone. He thought that, maybe, it had something to do with the fact that bad things usually happened to him when he was alone. He grew up alone, in a cupboard under the stairs in his aunt and uncle's house. Hagrid showed up to rescue him when he was eleven. He wasn't alone then.

Harry faced an evil Professor Quirrel with a dead Voldemort attached to his head alone in his first year at Hogwarts. Sure, Ron and Hermione had been with him _right up _until the beginning of the end, but when push came to shove and the gloves were coming off and the fat lady was just about to sing, Harry had to leave his friends behind and fight Quirrel alone.

Harry was alone when he faced the diary of Tom Riddle in second year. Hermione was in the infirmary, and Ron had to watch Lockehart, and Ginny was unconscious, and Fawkes was there to help him and save him, but birds don't count, and Harry was _alone_.

Harry wasn't alone in third year when he faced the "murderer" Sirius Black. His friends were there with him, and Ron was willing to die for him, and even though it wasn't necessary—Sirius was a _good_ man who would never hurt Harry because he was his godfather and loved him very much—Harry still appreciated it and remembered what it felt like not to be alone.

Harry wasn't alone in fourth year, either—though he sometimes wished he had been—when Harry faced Voldemort live and in the flesh for the first time. Cedric Diggory was with him, but then he died, was killed, was _murdered_, and Harry was alone again. He was alone when his wand met with Voldemort's. And then he wasn't. His mum was there, and he was sort of happy because of that and sort of sad because it wasn't really her, but that didn't matter anyway because someone was there and he wasn't alone anymore.

In fifth year, Harry wasn't alone when _it_ happened. He was surrounded by people as Sirius Black—his godfather, his supposed-to-be guardian, the link to his parents who'd spent so much time fighting, just like Harry, not to be alone—fell into the veil and disappeared. That was one time Harry remembered when it would have been better for him to be alone. If he'd been alone, Sirius wouldn't have been there. If Sirius wasn't there, he wouldn't have fallen beneath the veil. Harry wished that he had been alone then.

Harry was alone when, in sixth year, Lucius Malfoy escaped from Azkaban and came after him. Harry was alone when Malfoy caught him and tried to take him to Lord Voldemort. Harry was alone when he bashed Malfoy's head in with a rock—being a pureblood, Malfoy never thought to protect against that. And when he dragged the stinking, rotting corpse into Hogsmeade, Harry was alone.

So, seeing the problems Harry had with being alone, it was no wonder, really, that he felt abandoned and lonely when Ron and Hermione left him to go to the prefect's car, even if he couldn't really fault them for going. After all, they had a job to do, and it wasn't to make him feel more comfortable. What Harry could do, however, was find a car with some of his other friends on it and hope that he didn't intrude too terribly much.

So that's what he did. It took him fifteen cars, thirteen friends, twelve acquaintances, and three snogging couples, but Harry finally found a car of people that he liked who liked him back that he wouldn't feel uneasy around if they all just sat there and stared into space. Which was really what he felt like doing.

Neville Longbottom and Luna Lovegood. Two weirder people Harry had never met (well, actually, Neville was kind of normal, but Luna took up enough weird on the weird-o-meter that all the weird hunters flocked to Hogwarts to bask in her weirdness), but they were good people. Other than Ron and Hermione, they were his best friends.

"Hey," Harry said as he settled beside Neville. He flushed a bit as he did because last year he had developed a bit of a crush on Neville. Not a big crush, not the "oh my god, he's looking at me, I think I'll die now" sort of crush, but more like the "I like his hands" sort or maybe even the "it's nice how he'll hug me when I have a nightmare" type. Neville was nice and caring and always friendly to Harry, even when Harry was in his meanest, snarliest, snarkiest, trash-the-room-blow-up-the-building-ain't-_nobody_-surviving-this rage. 

Neville was great when it came to those type things, which made Harry wonder if Neville was good at other things, too. If they kissed, would it just be "wet"? Harry didn't think so. He thought that it would be timid at first. Neville wouldn't know what to do with his hands, so Harry would draw them around his waist, and Neville would just hold him. Harry's own hands would go into Neville's hair, free of any products, soft, black as coal, like Harry's own. Harry would pull Neville's head down and press his lips to Neville's. Harry would lick Neville's upper lip. That would be enough to free both of them from their shyness. From then on, it would be all tender passion, burning desire. Their hands would be all over each other, exploring, ripping the other's clothes off. Harry would wrap his legs around Neville's waist, and he'd just _squeeze _with his thighs, grinding against Neville. Neville would push him against a wall, maybe onto the floor instead. They'd—

"—Harry?" Neville said and put a hand on Harry's arm.

Harry shivered at the slight contact and turned to face Neville, their knees brushing in the process. "Sorry?" Harry said, his earlier blush deepening. He tried to think of a good lie to tell Neville as to why he hadn't been paying attention. He couldn't actually say that the reason was because he was fantasizing about a rampant snog session between the two of them. Harry settled on a half-truth. "I was kind of lost in thought and wasn't listening. Sorry."

Neville smiled, a crooked, endearingly sweet smile that Harry loved so much, and dropped his hand from Harry's arm. "S'okay," he said. "I know what that's like, sometimes. I was only asking you how your summer was. Nothing too terribly important."

Harry's already scarlet face deepened in hue at the thought of Neville wanting to know about his summer, of him caring enough to ask. Of _course _Neville cared. He and Harry were friends, and that's what friends did. It didn't mean anything else, no matter how much Harry might wish it did. Harry blushed brighter.

"Are you okay?" Neville asked. He reached up and touched Harry's cheek. "I only ask because, well, you're as bright as a tomato, and well, you're burning up."

"I'm all right," Harry squeaked—in his manliest voice, of course—as Neville moved his hand to Harry's forehead.

"You sure?" Neville said. "You're awfully hot."

Harry heard Luna snort from the other side of the car.

"Yeah," he said, pulling back from Neville's hand. He had completely forgotten that Luna was in the car, and as she knew about Harry's little—teeny, tiny, miniscule, microscopic—crush, he didn't want her to see him all twitterpated.

"How was your summer?" Harry asked Neville, trying to get the attention off himself. Harry didn't particularly want to talk of his summer, especially the part he spent with the Dursleys. It wasn't that it was bad—his relatives were on their best behavior since Mr. Weasley and the others gave Uncle Vernon a stern talking-to—it was just that it wasn't important anymore, now that he was going home to Hogwarts. Harry would much rather hear about Neville, who probably had a more interesting summer, anyway.

"Well," Neville said, only to have Luna interrupt him.

"Daddy took me to Romania," Luna said. "We met a pack of vampires. You should have seen them! They were nothing like the paper wants you to think. They weren't all about sucking blood and evil. They were some of the nicest people I've ever met. I think I'll get Daddy to take me back next summer."

Luna was just finishing her story on how the head vampire turned out to be vegetarian and sucked all the blood he needed from mandrakes—her father put it in _The Quibbler_, the magazine he owned—when the door burst open and two unknown boys fell in. One was blonde, the other brunette, both were short (at least, they looked short from where they were lying on the floor), and Harry had never seen either of them before. They were wearing Hogwart's robes, but anybody could buy those, if they wanted. Harry edged his wand into his hand and waited for them to get up.

The brunette did so first, scowling as he helped up his companion. "I told you there was someone in here," he said to the other in a low voice that Harry could barely hear.

"Yeah, well, I figured you would rather be in here with strangers than out there with not-so-strangers," the blonde said, also speaking in a low tone.

"You mean..." the brunette trailed off.

"Yes, I mean," the blonde said. "I saw him—with a capital H-I-M—out in the corridor. I felt the most sensible course of action would be to push you into an empty compartment until you could figure out what to say to him."

"Oh, obviously," the brunette said. He smoothed out his robes, picking imaginary lint from them. "One problem. This car isn't empty."

"Well, _sorry_ for trying to be nice," the blonde said. Then, for the first time since he fell into Harry's car, seemed to remember that "not an empty car" meant that there were other people in it. "Oh, where are my manners?" He turned to Harry and his friends. "I'm Quatre Winner, and this charming devil is Heero Yuy. We're transfers."

***

Heero groaned—mentally, not aloud, as did one befitting his station—when Quatre explained the reasoning behind literally _falling _into the occupied car. Heero knew that He would be hear, had heard about Him transferring from Beauxbatons when Voldemort was pronounced alive by the Minister of Magic. Heero had heard and thought about what that might mean, and he had discussed it with Dorothy and Quatre until all three were blue in the face. Eventually, they decided to come to Hogwarts as planned. One most likely disgruntled ex-lover was not enough to throw away years of planning. Besides, Heero and Quatre's Second was here, and the only way to get him to trust them was by coming to his school. Preferably being Sorted into his House.

He knew that Duo Maxwell was going to be here. He even accepted that the two of them may have several classes together. But he was not yet ready to have Duo confront him on what he did. Heero guessed he should thank Quatre for getting him out of a situation he had not even realized he was in. But Quatre didn't have to push him so hard!

Heero rubbed his upper arm. He landed on it rather rough and knew that, by the Sorting, it was going to be a nasty bruise. It used to take a lot to injure Heero. Whether he jumped out of a building or self-destructed his Gundam, he would hardly have a scratch on him. At least, compared to the others around him, he'd be relatively uninjured. Now, Heero got hurt if he tried walking and talking at the same time. But, he would take a fragile body over no magic any day.

Quatre elbowed Heero, and he realized that the overweight kid was holding out his hand, waiting for Heero to shake it. Heero smiled at him in what he hoped was a self-deprecating way and took his hand, holding it firmly and giving three hard pumps, just as that bastard J taught him.

"Neville Longbottom," the other said, and Heero nodded his head. Quatre already introduced them, so Heero felt no obligation to repeat his own name. Heero shook the other persons' hands—"Harry Potter," obviously, and "Luna Lovegood."

After introductions were out of the way, Quatre asked if the others cared if he and Heero stayed in their car. The two of them could leave, if they wanted them to, but it was just that they didn't know anyone else, and all the other cars already had people in them. And they lost somebody, and Quatre was always told that if he lost someone, he should just wait until they found him. And he and Heero were sort of avoiding someone, so he'd rather not go back into the hall.

Quatre was just about to plead that all the dolphins and whales and little, pretty fish in the oceans would leap for joy, and the ozone layer would build itself back up, and all manner of nasty, rotten creatures—except for the good ones in each species, of course—would crawl under rocks and hide there until their dying days if _only_ Quatre and Heero could stay in the car, when Harry stepped forward and said, "Okay."

So they sat down beside Luna, on the bench across from Harry and Neville. When they were settled, Heero leaned forward to whisper in Quatre's ear, "Laying it on a little thick, weren't you?"

Quatre huffed and turned pointedly to Heero. "This is a perfect opportunity," he said quietly in his best "you're so dumb, it's so _obvious_" voice. "We're in here, with our Second. We didn't plan this, so there's no additional deception involved. We didn't even have to come up with some half-assed, diabolical scheme. 

"The only way it could be better is if the other two weren't in here. But, even with them here, we can charm our way into his heart, at least a little bit. He can get to know us a bit before the Sorting. It could prove to be a buffer, if we don't get into Gryffindor. And if we do, it could be a stepping stone into friendship

"Now, you put on your perkiest smile, act happy, and schmooze your way into our little lion's life."

Heero chuckled as Quatre asked what year and House the other three were in. Predictably, Harry said he was a seventh year Gryffindor. Heero hadlived in several private treatment facilities for the last twenty months and in a vigilante army base for most of his first fifteen years, but even _he_ knew who Harry Potter was. Neville was in the same House and year as Harry. Surprisingly, Luna was a sixth year Ravenclaw.

"I thought there were big time House rivalries?" Heero asked before he could stop himself. Two years spent with Quatre—and a year before that with Duo—had considerably lowered Heero's tact, and his vocabulary.

"Well, there were House rivalries," Harry said, "but they were never between Gryffindor and Ravenclaw. It's always been Gryffindor kicking the snot out of Slytherin, and Ravenclaw fighting with Hufflepuff. That's all gone now. At least, it's supposed to be. Professor Dumbledore—the Headmaster—abolished House points when he came back last year in a ploy to get us all to work together. There's not even a Quidditch cup anymore!

"I guess there's no point in it, anymore, really, what with Volde—sorry, Neville—You-Know-Who around. He doesn't care which House beats which, as long as he beats them all."

"I guess that makes sense," Quatre said, leaning forward. "Dumbledore must have that whole "Divided we're conquered, united we stand" philosophy going on. Would you tell me some more? I'd kind of like to know what I'm getting myself into by transferring here."

At that exact moment, just as Harry opened his mouth, the door to the car burst open once more. In strode a boy with the whitest blonde hair Heero had ever seen outside of a Veela family reunion. Behind him stood two hulking drones, Trowa Barton—_he went to Hogwarts?—_and Duo Maxwell. To make matters worse, behind him was someone Heero thought he would never have to see again: Daemon Rosencrantz.

"Shut your mouth, Potter," Blondie said, coming fully into the car, "you'll let the flies in."

Selune 


	3. Enter Trouble

Disclaimer: I do not own any things Harry Potter—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to the wonderful J. K. Rowling and whomever else she decides. I do not own anything Gundam Wing—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to (I think) Bandai and Sunrise.

Spoilers: This fic contains spoilers for books 1-5 of Harry Potter and all of the episodes of Gundam Wing. This fic does not include Endless Waltz.

Rating: R

Pairings: Neville/Harry, 2x1

Summary: Two years ago, the One Year War ended. At this time, the five heroes—the Gundam pilots—disappeared from the Muggle world. Three of them—pilots 02, 03, and 05—reappeared shortly after in the Wizarding world, as students at Hogwarts School of Witchraft and Wizardry. Now, twenty months after the fact, Heero Yuy and Quatre Winner are coming to Hogwarts, and they're bringing all of their secrets with them. The world—especially one Harry Potter—will never be the same.

Peace, Love, and Family: 

The Story of the Vanuli Three

Chapter 2: Enter Trouble

  
Quatre didn't know exactly what was happening. He didn't know who the arrogant blonde kid was. He didn't know who the huge, dumb looking guys with the massive arms were. He didn't know who the tall skinny guy with the light brown hair was—he suspected Heero knew him, could feel the familiarity between the two. But Quatre _did _know Duo, and he _did _know Trowa, and he _did _know that the situation would have to be diffused. And quick.

The boy that Heero seemed to know stepped forward, pushing Blondie—the only one who'd spoken thus far; he seemed to be the leader—and the others out of the way. He stood in front of Heero and glared down at him.

"I knew Dumbledore would let a lot of people in, but I always thought he would draw the line at _your _kind, Squib," he said. His voice was low, gutteral. Animalistic, even. It combined the pitch of a boy who had just become a man with the intonation of a man who had never been a boy.

Heero growled—low in his throat, where nobody could hear it unless they knew him and were listening—and started to stand up. Quatre stopped him before his butt ever left the seat.

"No, Ro," Quatre said, grasping Heero's upper arm. Heero did as told, but the hardness didn't leave his eyes.

"How did _you _get into Hogwarts, Yuy?" Bastard—as Quatre secretly named him—demanded, using his height to try and intimidate Heero. This guy couldn't know Heero that well, if he thought mere height would make Heero cower in fear. "You coming for the "Squib Training Program"? Is Filch going to teach you to be a janitor, just like him?"

The other boys with Bastard laughed. Quatre grimaced when he saw that Duo joined in. He was laughing the loudest and most obnoxiously of the six.

Height wouldn't intimidate Heero—either another person's or a building's from which he was about to jump—power would not frighten him, and death itself held no sway over him, but Duo Maxwell's rejection would shatter him. Quatre hoped that Heero didn't notice Duo. One look at Heero took that hope and beat it on the head with a sledgehammer. Repeatedly. Quatre hated it when anyone hurt Heero, and Duo just hurt Heero. Quatre decided, then and there, that Duo Maxwell was worthy of only the highest, most intense form of hatred.

Heero's eyes weren't hard anymore; they were open and raw. Still shielded to the untrained eye, Quatre's eyes were trained and practiced in the art of Heero decoding. Heero was crushed. His mouth was set in a straight line, his jaw barely trembling with the effort to keep from lashing out. His hands lay splayed on his thighs, but Quatre could see the slight tension in his forearms, evidence of the work it was taking Heero to to clench them into fists. Quatre had rarely seen Heero like this, but he knew what it meant. Heero Yuy was well and truly pissed.

Keeping his right hand on Heero's arm, he brought the other up to lay at the small of Heero's back, right below a scar. If things went bad—well, worse than they already were—Quatre would latch onto Heero's robe and hold him back. Quatre hoped that wouldn't be the case because if someone made Heero angry enough to lose control, he himself would probably have already jumped off the "control bridge" long ago. No one would be able to hold _him_ back if that happened.

"Maybe you stole the magic?" the Bastard-Demon-From-Hell-Who-Deserved-To-Die-And-If-Quatre-Got-His-Way (And-He-Always-Did) He-Would said. The others had stopped laughing, and the words seemed to echo throughout the car. Heero's face paled, and Quatre hoped that no one else saw it. Apparently, wishes don't come true, for Bastard smirked. "I can see that I'm on the right track. So, how much did you steal, Yuy? From who? Does Professor Dumbledore know that you're a thief? Ooh, what would your precious Dr. J say about you now, you murdering, thieving, little Squib?"

Heero was out of the seat before Quatre could react. By the time Quatre realized his hands were empty, Heero had Bastard by the throat. Heero was holding him off the floor—no easy feast, as Bastard was quite a bit taller than him—and he was saying something to him in a low, clipped voice. Quatre couldn't hear what he said, but whatever it was made all the blood rush from Bastard's face.

Heero dropped Bastard on the floor and looked back at Quatre before walking out. Quatre took that to mean that he was allowed to follow.

Quatre was stepping over Bastard when he yelled out, "Once a Squib, always a Squib!" Quatre changed directions and stepped on him. Hard.

Quatre knew where Heero would go (the same place everybody went when they wanted to be alone in a public place: the bathroom); however, he wanted to reach Heero before what Quatre dubbed "The Duo Fallacy" happened. Quatre wanted to be near him before he could lock the experience into a little mind-box, deny it ever happened, and leave with a smile on his face. Basically, Quatre wanted to catch Heero before he took a swim in denial.

Quatre sighed in relief when he opened the door to the bathroom. Heero was splashing his face with water. He had a smile on his face, but it was forced and not the goofy kind that Quatre came to associate with Too Late. Quatre would still be able to help his little brother.

"So, what—," Quatre began but was quickly interrupted.

"Isn't he everything you thought he would be?" Heero said, his eyes attempting to light up but failing miserably. He dried his face and hands and turned back to Quatre. "Our Second, I mean. Isn't he just wonderful? Think, Quatre, our middle brother is none other than Harry Potter! It's absolutely _fantastic_!

"Heero," Quatre interject, but it didn't stop him.

"I mean, just, wow! You know? You hear about these things, and you know them, and maybe you even See them, but it's never really real until you see it for the first time. You know what I mean?" Heero bit his lip and looked Quatre in the eye, concern showing on his face.

_Finally_, thought Quatre. He was going to say something about what just happened! But no, Quatre was wrong. Heero, apparently, had no intention of talking about Duo or Bastard or even Trowa!

"Do you think he liked us?" Heero said in that small, little kid's voice he sometimes used. Quatre hated that voice. Heero Yuy was supposed to be strong and be able to leap over tall buildings in a single bound and crush the bones of his enemies with his teeth. Heero Yuy was not supposed to be brittle and fragile and afraid of his own brother's opinion of him. Heero Yuy was not supposed to have to be comforted by his older brother in a dingy bathroom on a train on their way to a new school, new home, new life. It wasn't supposed to happen, and it wasn't fair, but Quatre was not about to let Heero suffer all alone.

"Yeah, I think he does," Quatre said and pulled Heero into a one-armed hug. Heero flinched, and Quatre stepped back, startled. Heero had gotten over his aversion to touch a little while back, so something had to be up. "What's wrong?"

Heero opened his mouth and quickly shut it again. He was probably going to tell Quatre that it was "nothing" and that he would be "fine," but Heero's time spent with Quatre taught him something. And that something was that "nothing" was never an appropriate answer to give an overprotective older brother. And Quatre was as overprotective as they came. Anyone who had Heero as family had to be.

"My arm," Heero said, reaching up to rub it. "It bruised when I fell earlier."

Of course, Quatre knew that meant when _he_ had pushed Heero. Now, it was Quatre's turn to bite his lip. He really should be more careful with Heero—the treatment really weakened his body.

"I can probably heal the surface of the bruise myself, but I'm going to need help for the internal portion."

Ahh, Quatre could help there. He had a potion for everything. If there wasn't a potion for it, he would make one. If it could be conceived, it could be brewed. He was the Amazing Potions Man!

Quatre reached into his pants pocket and pulled out a vial. Like some other students—Muggle-borns, especially—Quatre didn't feel right about going around in just robes. It made him feel naked and exposed. Something he didn't like in the best of times, much less surrounded by strangers and enemies in a potentially hostile environment. So, Quatre always wore pants and a shirt under his robes, which was a good thing, as robes had no pockets in which to put potions.

"Here you go," Quatre said, handing the vial to Heero. "Drink half of it now, and if a bruise shows up, drink the other half later. It should heal any other minor injuries you've not seen fit to tell me about."

Heero drank the instructed amount and slid—bonelessly—to the floor. Quatre sat beside Heero and pulled him into his lap. He leaned his head against the wall and stroked Heero's hair.

"It's also a truth potion," Quatre said. Heero stiffened in his arms. Rather, he tried to stiffen, but because the potion acted as a mild muscle relaxer in order to heal, he couldn't. The _Claritaserum_ didn't relax him so much that he wouldn't be able to talk, however.

Quatre continued petting Heero's hair as he wrestled over whether or not to ask Heero about Bastard. This could be the only time Heero would give straightforward, honest answers. Despite their closeness, Heero hardly ever purposely revealed anything about his past to Quatre, and this felt like the past—before the Gundams. Quatre supposed he could always just have a Look, but the Sight was sometimes unpredictable and occasionally wouldn't happen if he really wanted it to. Most times, though, it worked perfectly. In the end, Quatre decided to pursue questioning and stop if he felt Heero getting too upset. He'd deal with the consequences later.

"Who was that guy back there? The tall one with the brown hair?" Quatre asked, clarifying so that Heero couldn't intentionally misunderstand him and say "Duo" or "Trowa".

"I knew him—Daemon—from before. We used to be friends," Heero said. It was muffled because his face was pressing into Quatre's shoulder, but Quatre could decipher what he said. Quatre helped Heero turn over, so he could understand him better.

"What happened?" Quatre prodded. The interaction between Heero and this Daemon guy was not that of old friends or even friends who had a huge falling out. Daemon acted more like a vengeful ex-lover, more like Duo should have than anything. 

"_Weakness is failure, and failure is death. Please, cut from us our weakness, Dr. J, so that we may live for you_," Heero said. It sounded like he was quoting. Heero sighed, and a tear ran down his face. "Daemon betrayed me in the worst way possible. Please, Quat, don't ask me any more. I'll tell you later, I promise, just don't make me say it now."

"Okay," Quatre promised, wiping the tear from Heero's cheek. He didn't like it, but he would do as Heero wished. "I won't ask any more—for now."

Quatre gathered Heero closer to him and rocked, as he started doing so many months ago, when Heero was still in treatment. Quatre wanted to get to know his middle brother, but he already knew his little one. He loved Heero more than he had ever loved anybody—more than his mothers (biological and step), all of his sisters combined, even his father. Heero was Quatre's whole world; he was his family. No one—not even a god—could help him who hurt Quatre's family.

Quatre was still rocking Heero when the door opened and in walked Duo and Trowa. Duo's eyes formed slits, and he glared at Quatre with the power of a thousand suns. Quatre glared back at Duo, jaw set, determined. Duo hurt Heero and was thus the Enemy.

_He loves you, so you're safe now. But if you hurt him any more, after all he's been through, not even a bicorn will go near your remains._

***

Harry stared out the door Heero and Quatre just walked out of. Then his eyes flicked down to Rosencrantz. Door, Rosencrantz. Door, Rosencrantz. Door, Rosencrantz. 

That was _interesting_, to say the least. Here Harry was expecting a big blowout between himself and Malfoy—who, as always, had his Slytherin entourage to back him up—and instead, the blowout had been between a transfer student and the most unobtrusive of Malfoy's gang. Harry didn't really know what the fight was about (other than the fact that Rosencrantz called Heero a Squib), but the fact that Heero stood up for himself (and how!) made Harry respect him. Maybe he and his friend (Harry saw the kick he gave Rosencrantz) would be Sorted into Gryffindor. That might be nice.

Harry broke out of alternating stares and turned his gaze to Malfoy. "What do you want, Malfoy?" Harry demanded. He stood in front of Malfoy, his hands clenched at his sides, wand in his right hand. Slytherins were really more trouble than they were worth, and Harry couldn't understand why Professor Dumbledore didn't just toss out the lot of them. Good-bye, sayanora, don't come back now, ya hear?

"This is tiresome and dreadfully boring, Malfoy," Harry said. Out of the corner of his eye, Harry saw Barton and Maxwell leave the car. "One of your friends is on the floor, crying like a little baby—put there by a supposed _Squib—_two of the others just sneaked off with their tails between their legs, and you're here with us," Harry pointed to himself, Neville, and Luna, "and two lumps of dumb," Harry pointed to Crabbe and Goyle. "Now, what would a smart person do in this situation?" Harry put his hand on his chin and pretended to ponder the question. "Oh, yeah. Run! Now, you shoo on along, Malfoy. You're outnumbered and outwitted, three brains to one."

"We're not done here, Potter," Malfoy scowled, but he helped up Rosencrantz. Crabbe and Goyle were already heading for the door. "I'll get you for what you did to my father." Then Malfoy turned and—along with Rosencrantz—followed Crabbe and Goyle out.

When the door was shut and the two Gryffindors and one Ravenclaw were once again safely ensconced in their car—alone together—Harry fell back on to his bench, giggling furiously. Neville and Luna looked at him as though he were mad, but it just made him laugh that much harder. The look on Malfoy's face! It was almost as if he thought the threats of a dead Death Eater's son would scare him, especially when Harry himself had killed the Death Eater in question.

Harry eventually got his giggles under control. He looked up to find Neville and Luna—Luna, for Pete's sake!—looking at him as if he had gone stark, raving mad.

"What?" he asked, knowing full well what they were staring at but not acknowledging it in any way, shape, or form. After all, it wasn't every day one saw the Boy-Who-Lived in the midst of gut-wrenching laughter.

"Nothing, Harry, just wondering what was so funny," Neville said, sitting down beside Harry.

"Same here," Luna said, settling back in her seat with the latest copy of _The Quibbler_.

Harry was just starting to get comfy when the door opened for the third—and hopefully final—time. Hermione and Ron walked in, both of their prefect badges gleaming.

"It took us forever to find you, Harry," Hermione scolded, coming to sit beside Harry.

"Yeah, mate. We were about to give you up for lost," Ron said, settling beside Luna. "So, we miss anything?"

Harry couldn't help it. That one innocent question opened the floodgates, and he burst out laughing again. As Harry buried his face into Hermione's robe, he heard Luna say, "More than you probably wish to know."

Selune


	4. Look, Ma, It's a Gryffindor!

Disclaimer: I do not own any things Harry Potter—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to the wonderful J. K. Rowling and whomever else she decides. I do not own anything Gundam Wing—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to (I think) Bandai and Sunrise.

Spoilers: This fic contains spoilers for books 1-5 of Harry Potter and all of the episodes of Gundam Wing. This fic does not include Endless Waltz.

Rating: R

Pairings: Neville/Harry, 2x1

Summary: Two years ago, the One Year War ended. At this time, the five heroes—the Gundam pilots—disappeared from the Muggle world. Three of them—pilots 02, 03, and 05—reappeared shortly after in the Wizarding world, as students at Hogwarts School of Witchraft and Wizardry. Now, twenty months after the fact, Heero Yuy and Quatre Winner are coming to Hogwarts, and they're bringing all of their secrets with them. The world—especially one Harry Potter—will never be the same.

Peace, Love, and Family: 

The Story of the Vanuli Three

Chapter 3: Look, Ma, It's a Gryffindor!

Heero wrung his hands and paced the floor. He, Quatre, and Dorothy were waiting to be Sorted. He was nervous as hell. They were in a room just off the Great Hall. They were all alone so it was okay to show it. Had any one else been there, Heero would have hidden his feelings. Quatre and Dorothy were family, though—brother and Naiyama—they wouldn't use it against him.

Quatre was nervous, too. He kept walking over to Heero, hugging him, walking over to Dorothy, hugging her, and then repeating the action. Every time Quatre hugged Heero, he would stop pacing and hug him back. Quatre was a very tactile person around those he loved, and the touch-feeliness always seemed to increase exponentially as he became more and more nervous.

Heero couldn't tell what Dorothy was feeling. She stood stock still, her face expressionless. Occasionally, she would return Quatre's hugs, but more often than not, she just let him hug her. Rarely, she would smile at them.

Heero couldn't see how she did it—at least, not around him and Quatre. Heero himself was eaten up with nerves. What if he didn't get into Gryffindor? What if Quatre didn't? What if Quatre did, but Heero didn't, or vice versa? What about Dorothy? Would it be better or worse if they were in the same House as her? Those questions and others plagued Heero as he paced.

Heero worked himself into a state by the time Quatre meandered back for his 4,283rd hug—but that might be an exaggeration. Heero latched onto Quatre fiercely. He was Heero's comfort, his pillar, his port in the storm. Having Quatre near him always made Heero feel better. Heero's thoughts were cleaner, his stress level decrease, and he just generally felt happier when he touched his First. It was there, to a lesser extent, with Dorothy, too. Heero wondered if it would work with Harry. It probably would, eventually.

"I'm worried. You?" Quatre asked. The two were locked together, their arms binding them in the way of very young children. It made a weird kind of sense, as they were about to go through something usually only eleven year-olds did.

"Of course not," Heero said. "I always act like I'm on a rickety boat in a hurricane while waiting for a life-changing act." He laughed and hugged Quatre harder. What if they were separated? "We'll be okay." What if they weren't?

The door opened, and Heero heard a great din from the Great Hall. A stern-looking woman—she had earlier been introduced to them as Professor McGonagall—walked in and smiled a thin smile.

"We're ready for you," she said, waving them from the room.

They filed out into the Great Hall. They were on a dais, a stool and the Sorting Hat—Heero knew how they were Sorted because one of Quatre's sister's husbands went to Hogwarts—stood in the center. Behind it was a long table. Many teachers sat there, as did Professor Dumbledore.

When he saw Heero's family enter, Professor Dumbledore stood. The Great Hall fell silent as the students listened for him to speak. Dumbledore took a breath and smiled, his eyes twinkling.

"As many of you know," Dumbledore began, speaking loud enough for all to hear, "Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry accepts all manners of students. We pride ourselves on attracting new students, especially transfer students from the colonies. I know you all will welcome the new transfers and treat them as true Hogwarts students.

"Let the Sorting begins!" Dumbledore finished with a flare and sat down, eliciting a disapproving look from Professor McGonagall.

"Catalonia, Dorothy," McGonagall read from a scroll.

Dorothy left the cluster the three had made—Heero and Quatre let go of each other before they walked into the Great Hall, but they still stood close together—and walked steadily to the stool. The hat was barely on her head when it yelled out, "Slytherin!" Dorothy smirked and strolled over to the last table. She sat down daintily beside the blonde from the train—the one with Veelaish hair—as the entire table cheered.

Then, it was Quatre's turn. He flashed Heero a nervous grin before walking to the stool and sitting the hat on his head. _Gryffindor! Gryffindor!_ Heero chanted in his head. Maybe if he thought it enough, it would come true. Quatre had his fingers crossed—maybe he was thinking the same thing. Briefly, a scowl passed over Quatre's face, then it brightened as the hat yelled out, "Gryffindor!" Quatre practically jumped off the stool and ran to the Gryffindor table, barely remembering to take off the hat.

Heero's stomach lurched, part with happiness and part with fear. What if he got put in Hufflepuff, Ravenclaw, or even Slytherin? He wouldn't be able to sleep at night without Quatre there. He'd have to sneak into Quatre's dorm room every night. He might get caught. What if he was? He might get expelled and never see his brothers again. Well, that solved it. Heero _had _to be in Gryffindor.

"Yuy, Heero," McGonagall said, and Heero stalked up to the Sorting Hat. He put it on his head.

_Well, well, well, _the Sorting Hat said. Kind of. Heero jumped a bit as the voice entered his mind directly. He had been warned about this by Marty—Quatre's third oldest sister's husband—but knowing it and feeling it were two different things. It was strange. _I see here that someone has his mind made up. You certainly _do _have the qualities of a Gryffindor: quick to leap before you look—quite literally—and that whole "brave" thing. You would do very well there, indeed._

_Yes! _Heero thought, desperate to make sure the hat knew he should be in Gryffindor. _I've done things that would make lesser men cower in fear. I've—_

_However, _the hat said, _your reason for wanting Gryffindor makes me consider you Hufflepuff material._

_Hufflepuff? _Heero scoffed. Whywould he want to be in Hufflepuff? They were leftovers, the people none of the other Houses would take. They were—

_Loyal. Hufflepuffs are loyal. Much as you are to Mr. Winner and will soon be to Mr. Potter. Your loyalty outweighs all your other qualities. Why, you've even put your life in danger to save Mr. Winner's—_

_By being brave! _Heero interjected. He knew it was rude, but the hat had to see that Heero belonged in 

"Gryffindor!"

_What? _Oh, gods, he'd been made a Gryffindor. He was actually a Gryffindor! Heero's face broke out into a smile. He stood up, at the last minute remembering to take off the hat, and walked over to the Gryffindor—_his—_table. Heero sat beside Quatre and pretty much screamed. He was drowned out by his new Housemates, who were all yelling, "Gryffindor! Gryffindor!" Heero looked at Quatre, and together, they decided to join in.

"Gryffindor! Gryffindor!"

***

After the Opening Feast—_long _after—Harry and the other seventh years were in the Gryffindor common room. The underclassmen had all gone to bed, and Harry knew that he should, too. But he didn't want the reminder from Hermione that would come in five, four, three, two—

"It's late, guys. We really should go to bed," Hermione said, predictably. As always, the other seventh years grumbled and complained. The only two who didn't were Heero and Quatre. And that was only because they were new and didn't know her yet.

Harry was oddly happy that they were in his House and year. He'd known them less than a day, but for some reason, it seemed like much longer. Harry was as comfortable around the two of them as he was around most of his friends. More so than some.

The others seemed to like them, too—the thought made Harry's heart swell with pride, which was weird because he didn't have anything about which to be proud. It wasn't like he knew much more about them than the others—especially after Neville recounted the "Train Incident." Harry told Ron and Hermione about it earlier, but Ron just couldn't hear it enough. Ron's favorite thing was a trampled Slytherin.

Lavender and Parvati couldn't take their eyes from Heero and Quatre. Heero would move, and Lavender's eyes would follow. Quatre would shift, and Parvati would stare. Harry almost expected the girls to bore a hole through Quatre and Heero. Maybe just through their robes. Harry was sure that if either of them knew a spell to do that, they would in a heartbeat. He resolved to make sure they never found one, if it existed.

"Her-mi-o-ne," Ron whined. "I think we're all old enough to know for ourselves when we should to go to bed."

"Then you should know, oh great Prefect Ron, that all students are required to be in bed by eleven p.m. It is now past one. You figure it out," Hermione snapped. She stood up and turned to leave. She seemed to change her mind because she turned back around quite suddenly. "Heero, Quatre, it was nice to meet you." Hermione left the common room to go to the girls' dorm.

"Yeah," Lavender echoed breathlessly. She licked her lips. Had Harry not known her very well—and had he not been on the gay end of the bi spectrum—he might have thought it was very sexy. "It was _so _nice meet you both." Funny thing was, she only looked at Heero.

Parvati repeated what Lavender said; the only difference was her eyes were glued to Quatre. Those two acted more like twins than Parvati and her sister Padma. Sometimes even more so than Fred and George Weasley, and that was almost impossible to do—if the Weasley twins were any more identical, they'd be clones. 

The two girls left the common room. Harry supposed that if they didn't, Hermione might have a monster lecture in store for them. Harry turned to tell the guys that they should go to bed—or at the very least, to their room—lest Hermione come down to find them all still up. Quatre beat him to it.

"Well, I'm going to bed," Quatre said. "You coming, Heero?" Heero nodded and stood, stretching. It was such a fluid motion, it brought the image of a cat to Harry's mind. Harry looked around and caught Dean staring at Heero. He turned his head away when he noticed Harry looking at him.

"We should probably go up to bed, too," Dean said a little sheepishly. "Don't you think, Seamus?"

Seamus, who had been staring off into space, blinked in response.

"Guess that means yeah," Dean chuckled. He grabbed Seamus' arm and led him up the stairs, while the rest of the boys trooped behind them.

Harry's room was the same one he'd shared with the others since his first year. It, like the rest of the Gryffindor arena, was in a tower. This year, though the room was still the same, it had been expanded, so it could accommodate seven boys instead of five. The positions of the beds had been changed, too. The room was circular, and the beds were always arranged in a circle. This year was no exception. But whereas before Harry's bed was beside Ron's, this year it was between Neville's and Dean's. For some reason, their beds were arranged alphabetically. Going clockwise from the door, their beds were Seamus, Neville, Harry, Dean, Ron, Quatre, and Heero. Harry wasn't sure if he liked the new setup, but he supposed he could always trade with somebody if it was too bad.

Harry changed in to his pajamas and got into bed. He lay down on the soft mattress and drifted off into sleep.

***

Harry jerked as he awoke. He couldn't remember why, exactly he was awake, but he knew it would come back to him soon. And there it was: he'd had a nightmare. Harry hated nightmares. Ever since he began having them, back in fourth year, Harry hated them. Especially the ones that came true.

At first, these were just the "visions," or whatever, that he had of Voldemort. Harry would see him torture some innocent Muggle, maybe use the _Cruciatus_ curse on one or two of his inept followers. The summer after his fifth year, however, Harry began dreaming true, even when Voldemort was nowhere in the dream. He dreamed of Lucius Malfoy's escape from Azkaban, saw how the dementors just let him pass on by. Harry dreamed of Hagrid's brother trying to escape from the Forbidden Forest, and the centaurs' attempts to cut him down. When Harry went back and checked the times of those and other events, he found that they always happened as he dreamed them.

Sometimes, Harry was awake when he "dreamed true"—he called it Seeing Sideways because he always saw the event as it happened, just from another person's eyes. When he Saw Sideways, the visions were never that detailed, and Harry never felt as connected as he did when he dreamed them. Harry didn't tell anybody his dream visions not always involving Voldemort, and he certainly didn't tell them when he started Seeing Sideways, but he knew what it meant. He looked it up in the library. He, Harry Potter, Boy-Who-Lived, was an Oracle. He knew that's what he was because an Oracle's predictions were never wrong. A Seer—even a true Seer—might get certain details wrong or even, occasionally, See the event wrong entirely. Harry was never wrong, not even down to the eye missing on the orange-haired doll.

And that's the main reason Harry hated nightmares. It wasn't because they were scary—even though they were—it was because, more likely than not, they were happening as he dreamt it. Which meant, by the time he woke up, it was too late. It was too late for little Sara McDonald and her father.

Harry curled up in a ball. He wished someone would come crawl into bed with him, hold him and comfort him until the pain went away, but it had never happened before, and he didn't expect it to happen now. Harry knew that neither Ron nor Neville would mind too terribly much if he got into their bed, but he didn't want to bother them. They had their own problems.

Harry wrapped his arms around his knees, brought them up under his chin, and cried.

***

Quatre could feel the waves of pain rolling off Harry. He longed to comfort his brother, but he knew that it was not yet his place to do so. He would probably become suspicious if Quatre were to attempt to climb in his bed and hold him. To get rid of some of his urges, Quatre hugged Heero. Thankfully, he was asleep and didn't seem to be feeling Harry's pain quite as strongly as Quatre.

Quatre and Heero were both in Quatre's bed. They had come to a consensus after first seeing the bed placements, that they would not sleep in Heero's bed unless absolutely necessary—it was too risky. It being by the door, anybody who got into the common room could just come and grab Heero with little to no trouble. The bed Quatre really wanted was Harry's or the red-headed kid's—Ron's. It was far enough away from the door to give an illusion of safety, but it wasn't under the window, either. Quatre would feel that Heero was safe in either of those beds.

Heero and Quatre began sleeping together—as in actually _sleeping—_in the middle of the war, whenever they weren't roomed with their usual partners. The first time they met, Heero died. He self-destructed his Gundam in order to protect the colonies and give the other pilots a chance to get away. That day, Quatre felt something he had never felt before. He felt Heero's death and the great chasm of pain that came with it. Quatre's chest felt like it was ripped out, like his heart lay beating on the controls in the cockpit. Quatre hated the feeling and hoped it never happened again. As luck would have it, it did, and every one of those times, Quatre knew why he felt like he did. But it was never as bad as that first time. The jubilation he felt when Heero came back—brought to life by a sort of magical override to his wards—was never as joyous and exhilarating and happy as it was then.

At the time, Quatre didn't even know what he was feeling, only that he was feeling something and it _hurt_. It wasn't until his first joint mission with Heero that he was even sure that Heero had been the cause of his pain. When Quatre saw Heero, he knew, for his heart danced the cha-cha in his chest, and his face burst into the biggest smile it ever had—he even strained some muscles. That was when Quatre knew, knew that Heero was _family_. At the time, Quatre didn't know exactly how they were related—if, indeed, they even were—but he knew that he loved Heero. Loved him as a brother. They slept in the same bed ever since, if it was at all possible.

Tonight, Heero waited until he was sure that their dormmates were asleep before sneaking over. It was two in the morning before Heero climbed into bed with Quatre. Quatre lay awake the entire time he was waiting for Heero—it was almost impossible for him to get to sleep without his brother, anymore. Quatre wondered if he would ever be as close with Harry as he now was with Heero. And, if he was, if his and Heero's relationship would suffer.

"No, please," Heero moaned in his sleep. He flopped around before finally throwing his leg over Quatre. "Not the _box_."

Heero was having a nightmare. Quatre supposed it was the night for nightmares. First, Harry, who he couldn't do anything about. Now, Heero, who he certainly could.

Quatre rubbed Heero's back, feeling the jagged scar. Death wounds never fully healed, no matter what magic was used. "Shh," Quatre whispered, trying to be quiet so as not to disturb Harry or wake the others. "It's just a dream. You're not alone. I love you, and I'll never leave you." Heero settled down, and Quatre relaxed, not even aware of the tension in his body until it was gone. 

"We should go to him," Heero said. Startled, Quatre looked down to see whether Heero was awake or talking in his sleep. Heero looked back at him.

"Sorry I woke you," Quatre said, truly meaning the words. He hadn't wanted Heero to wake up, merely for his nightmare to be changed to a pleasant dream. The pain Harry was sending off wasn't nearly as bad if one was asleep. Quatre didn't want Heero to have to feel that.

"We can tell him we're Empaths if he asks how we knew," Heero said. "Or that he's really loud. He just shouldn't be alone right now."

Quatre nodded. "You're right, he shouldn't. Let's go."

The two brothers made their way to their other brother's and climbed in on either side of him. If Harry was surprised to see them, he didn't show it. He latched onto the offered comfort as they soothed him back to sleep.

Selune


	5. Classes, Take One

Disclaimer: I do not own any things Harry Potter—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to the wonderful J. K. Rowling and whomever else she decides. I do not own anything Gundam Wing—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to (I think) Bandai and Sunrise.

Spoilers: This fic contains spoilers for books 1-5 of Harry Potter and all of the episodes of Gundam Wing. This fic does not include Endless Waltz.

Rating: R

Pairings: Neville/Harry, 2x1

Summary: Two years ago, the One Year War ended. At this time, the five heroes—the Gundam pilots—disappeared from the Muggle world. Three of them—pilots 02, 03, and 05—reappeared shortly after in the Wizarding world, as students at Hogwarts School of Witchraft and Wizardry. Now, twenty months after the fact, Heero Yuy and Quatre Winner are coming to Hogwarts, and they're bringing all of their secrets with them. The world—especially one Harry Potter—will never be the same.

Peace, Love, and Family: 

The Story of the Vanuli Three

Chapter 4: Classes, Take One

Harry woke up—for the first time in a long time—refreshed and rejuvenated. After his one vision, Harry's dreams were all nice—comforting and pleasant. There was a presence in his dreams. Actually, there were two. Whenever Harry's dream would start to go bad, they would fight against the nightmares. They made his dreams better than they ever were before. The presences were bright and glowing, and vaguely humanoid. They felt familiar, like Harry should know who they were, but he couldn't quite place them. 

Harry showered. By the time he finished, he had forgotten about the presences his his dreams.

Harry went down to breakfast, where Professor McGonagall—Head of Gryffindor House—was passing out there schedules.

"Oh, damn!" Ron exclaimed from beside Harry. Several heads glanced up and scowled at him. Hermione was one—she didn't approve cussing except in extreme situations. McGonagall shot Ron a disapproving look, but she didn't say anything about it, just moved down to table to hand out the rest of the schedules.

Harry started to turn to Ron, then changed his mind. He looked at his own schedule and saw why Ron was so upset. They had Potions and Care of Magical Creatures with the Slytherins—again. _And _they had Trelawny for Divinations. Harry knew Ron was hoping for Firenze.

"Yeah, that is bad luck," Harry said. He stuffed a muffin into his mouth. Ron was working himself into "rage mode", and Harry wanted to be finished eating by the time he got there. No such luck.

"I mean, really!" Ron said, shocking Seamus, who had fallen asleep in his cereal. "I didn't even _want _to take Potions. I failed the O.W.L. horribly—on purpose, mind you—just so that I wouldn't have to see the greasy git and his precious Slytherins!"

"Oh, Ron," Hermione said from the other side of the table. "You know Professor Dumbledore made everybody take Potions. It's a necessary skill that we will all need in the future."

Hermione was right. Snape usually only let students who made an "O" on their O.W.L.s into his upper-level classes. Of the three of them, only Hermione made that. However, due to Voldemort's resurrection and the subsequent danger everyone was in, the headmaster required Professor Snape to teach Potions to _all _the sixth and seventh year students. But only those who made that "O"—or improved enough over the course of two years that Snape deemed them good enough—would take it as a N.E.W.T. come June. Everyone else would take a normal final exam. As Harry still wanted to be an Auror, he hoped that he was allowed to take Potions as a N.E.W.T. 

Harry looked at his watch—it was his birthday present from Remus Lupin, the Defense Against the Dark Arts teacher—and choked on a muffin. "If you don't leave RIGHT NOW, you'll be late for class," it read. It was a digital and always had a new way to tell Harry that he was late. Harry swore under his breath and grabbed more muffins.

"Ron, we should go, or Trelawny'll kill us," Harry said, shoving at his friend to get moving. Trelawny's classroom was in the North Tower—if they ran, they just might make it on time. "On second thought, maybe she won't kill us. Maybe she'll just describe—in excruciating detail—how we're going to die of spider bites."

Ron paled, but he hurried up. Harry hated using Ron's arachnophobia against him, but they were running out of time. Harry _hated _to be late, probably because he always was.

"C'mon," Harry said. Ron gathered the rest of his stuff, and they left the Great Hall.

***

Heero was bored. He came to Divinations hoping to learn something, but all he got was a charlatan who levelled death threats at his brother. She was teaching them psychometry, a form of divination where one read the history of an object by touching it. Apparently, this had been learned a couple of years ago, but Trelawny wanted to refresh their memory of it, as it was related—a little—to their next unit, cheiromancy.

Heero knew Quatre must be having a blast—he was, after all, an Oracle of the Past—but Heero, himself, wasn't having much luck. Being an Oracle of the Future, he couldn't see the past, no matter how hard he tried. Every object Heero touched showed him nothing; however, he did see the future of his classmates many times as they touched him to pass the objects. So far, Heero saw that Lavender was going to trip over a bucket of slime—set out by Peeves the Poltergeist—Ron was going to get flustered asking out Hermione—who would decline—and Harry would have another nightmare, which would actually be a vision of the present. Heero made a little mental not on that, so he and Quatre could help Harry again.

Other than the vision of Harry, Heero saw nothing of interest—luckily, he was touched so rarely in the class that he wasn't overwhelmed with visions of his classmates' futures. He saw nothing at all from the quill that supposedly belonged to Catherine the Great. Sighing, Heero passed the quill along the line. He took notes on the insights he gained from it—basically, nothing—and accepted the next artifact from Quatre. He was pretty much asking for Professor Trelawny to come swooping down on him.

And she did. Trelawny noticed that he wasn't displaying the _enthusiasm _the others were—who, except for Quatre, Lavender, and Parvati, were as bad as or worse than Heero when it came to scrying into the past. Heero held the brooch to his forehead and pretended not to notice his professor.

"So, Mr. Yuy does not feel the need to take notes," Madame Trelawny said, narrowing her eyes. At least, Heero thought she narrowed her eyes. There was so much smoke in the room from all the burning incense, he wasn't sure. "Since Mr. Yuy knows everything about psychometry already, perhaps he can enlighten the rest of us?"

Heero lowered the brooch to the table. He looked out of the corner of his eye to see Quatre glaring angrily at Trelawny. He smiled at his brother to show that he was okay and turned to Trelawny.

Trelawny didn't like him—he could tell when he walked in the room. Her eyes narrowed, her body tensed, and her hands clenched on her desk. Heero didn't particularly care if she liked him, didn't care that she could fail him or give him detention, didn't care about the upcoming N.E.W.T.s. All Heero cared about was winning over Harry.

So, knowing that Harry didn't like Madame Trelawny—Quatre had a vision last night about it, but even if he hadn't, Trelawny's attitude would have given it away—he turned his smile upon her. "Well, what do you want to know?" Heero asked, silently snickering when her face went red with rage.

Heero knew—he just knew—that she was about to give him detention or something else equally unsavory. Writing a 12-inch essay on the uses of pig entrails while divining, maybe. Luckily, the bell rang, and Heero was able to escape before she opened her mouth.

Heero shot out of the classroom before he could be punished and waited for Quatre. Heero was the first person out of Trelawny's class, so he had to wait a while for Quatre—his brother would probably be apologizing for his behavior and trying to explain it. Much of the class congratulated him on their way out. The guys all slapped him on the back. Lavender hugged him and told him that it would be okay, Madame Trelawny was probably just tired from the exhaustion of being such a wonderful Seer and would be more congenial tomorrow. Parvati looked at him like he just skinned her cat, made a necklace out of it, and showed it to her. Dean's reaction, though, was the most outrageous. He got down on one knee, took Heero's hand, and asked Heero to marry him.

Heero was overwhelmed. There was too much touching, too much flesh meeting his all at once—too many images. He saw flashes of Ron running after Hermione, trying to convince her to date him. He saw Neville, sitting on his bed, looking sadly after Harry as he left. Seamus argued with an unidentified girl. Lavender painted her nails—she had a bandage on her head. The vision of Dean—because he touched Heero longer—was more involved than the others. It started out, and he was in a square room. Dean was scared, but Heero didn't know why. He realized the reason when Dean looked toward the door. Heero was standing there; he had a slightly older boy with him—Roun. Roun was hurt, and Heero was pleading with Dean. 

_"Please, don't tell. They'll kill him. You know they will," _Heero begged, holding Roun up. 

_"I won't help you hide him" _Dean said, going for the door. _"He's a vicious animal, and—"_

Heero was dragged out of the vision by a hand on his back. It soothed and protected him. All the other hands went away, and Heero focused on the slight pressure, the gentle reassurance of his brother. Heero leaned back into the touch and closed his eyes. He said, "Thanks, Quat."

"Are you okay, Heero?" said a voice that was decidedly Not Quatre. The voice belonging to the hand that touched and soothed him was not his oldest brother. Heero opened his eyes and looked at his savior. It was Harry. Harry helped him. Heero grinned but stepped away from the touch. Quatre had just left the Divinations classroom, and his hands were balled at his sides—a clear indicator that he was Not Happy, and was probably Jealous as Hell. Of his own brother. Which one, though, Heero didn't know.

"Yeah, Harry, I'm fine," Heero said, gathering the books he'd dropped. "It was just a dizzy spell. I get them from time to time. It's a good thing you were here, or I might have fallen. Thanks."

Harry grinned. "No problem," he said. He turned to walk down from the tower, then seemed to think better of it. "Do you guys know where the Dungeons are?" Both Quatre and Heero shook their heads. "Well, how about I show you?" Then, Harry came over to Heero and Quatre, linked arms with them, and took them down the steps.

Heero was reminded of _The Wizard of Oz_. _We're off to see the wizard, the wonderful wizard of Oz, _Heero thought. Touching Harry was as natural as touching Quatre. Heero couldn't decide if that was good—because Harry was his brother, too—or bad—what if Quatre though Heero didn't love him as much as he used to?—so he decided on indifferent. For now, at least.

***

Quatre was in his element. He had a cauldron in front of him, ingredients at his side, and instructions on the board. He even had Heero as his partner. Life could not get any better.

Except, of course, for it being a completely deplorable class—leave it to the humans to mess up a perfectly good day. The teacher—Professor Snape—seemed to hate all things Gryffindor, even newbies like himself and Heero. The guys from the train—including Duo, Trowa, and that Daemon Rosencrantz he still hadn't asked Heero about—turned out to _all _be Slytherins. Malfoy, the blonde "leader," picked on Harry as much as he possibly could. Duo and Trowa completely ignored Quatre and Heero. Quatre was secretly pleased with this—the more Duo ignored Heero, the sooner Heero would move on—which, of course, he would never mention to Heero. Rosencrantz kept looking up from his work, over at Heero, back to his work, and back to Heero. Not knowing why was driving Quatre insane!

Not to mention the fact that Quatre felt extremely jealous of Heero and Harry's earlier interaction! Quatre Winner was the first person to admit that he was completely jealous about and overprotective of his family. He almost lost Heero so many times since they found each other that it would be bordering on insanity not to worry about him. However, in this situation, Quatre didn't even know which one he was jealous of! Was he jealous of Harry, for comforting Heero when he wasn't there? Was he jealous of Heero, for bonding—consciously and subconsciously—with Harry? Did he hate it that he didn't have—or soon wouldn't have—Heero all to himself anymore? Or was he jealous that he hadn't spent any alone time with Harry, hadn't bonded with his middle brother?

Heero handed Quatre the diced bicorn, and he checked the color of the potion. Red—it was time to put it in. Quatre added the ingredient and let the process of potion-making reassure him. It did as nothing else—except for Heero and, Quatre suspected, Harry—could. 

They were making _Amitto Memoria_, "to lose memory." It was the Potions equivalent of the Obliviate spell. Almost. _Amitto Memoria_ made its victim forget only certain types of memories. If someone put in a piece of flesh, the drinker would forget all sexual thoughts, feeling, and memories of the person to whom the flesh belonged. If one added tears, the same thing would happen, only for all emotionally-charged memories. For instance, a person could forget the death of a loved one if he gathered the tears of his dearly departed and drank it with the potion. Blood worked for all violent memories. Bone was good for humiliating ones. Most of the other body parts—hair, fingernails, saliva, etc.—were usually for more trivial things. It was _technically_ a Dark Arts potion, but as this was a time of war in Britain, certain allowances were made so that the students would know how to protect themselves. 

In any case, Quatre loved brewing potions. He put the lasat ingredient in and let the cauldron simmer. He checked it, double checked it, triple checked it. It was perfect.

Quatre sent Heero to get a vial to put it in. Heero came back, and Quatre poured the potion into the vial and labeled it with the contents, class period, and their names. It wasn't that Quatre didn't trust Heero to do it correctly; it was that he wanted to do it himself. He even took it to Snape's desk. Then they were finished. They still had almost half of the class left.

Quatre felt himself getting bored, but rather than give into it, he began to look around the room. It amazed him how many potions were in the room. He tried to count them all and couldn't. Heero probably could, but then, he wouldn't be sidetracked by questions about what went in the potions and whatnot. Heero was more of a Transfigurations guy; he didn't worry too much about potions. Quatre wondered if Harry liked Potions—all of Quatre's visions seemed to point him towards more of a Charms enthusiast.

"Mr. Winner!" someone said loudly into his ear. Quatre jumped and looked to see who shouted. It was Professor Snape. He looked sour—more so than he did at the beginning of class, and that was saying something since, at that time, he looked as though he'd sucked on a tree full of lemons. "It seems as though you know all there is to know about _Amitto Memoria_, as you've finished with thirty minutes left of class." _Forty-five's more like it. _"So why don't you tell the rest of us how to make it?"

Quatre knew he heard something similar to that earlier. But when was it? Oh, yeah. Divinations. Bat-lady cracked down on Heero almost as hard as Snape was now doing to Quatre. He decided to take a page out of Heero's book: be rude, but tell the truth. His only worry, as far as getting into trouble went, was not being expelled. As long as he didn't tell lies or break too many rules, Quatre figured Professor Dumbledore would keep him and Heero at Hogwarts. After all, the headmaster knew what they were—species-wise, not that they were two of a set of three—and that they were here to get to know their brother. Dumbledore was always a softie when it came to family, so he probably wouldn't kick them out for anything but a major infraction—like the purposeful murder of another student. Still, Quatre wasn't going to push his luck. Much.

"The instructions are on the board," Quatre said to Professor Snape, pointing to the chalkboard at the front of the class, "and the ingredients are in the book," Quatre pointed to his textbook, _999 Dark Potions for the Light_ by Claudia DeFaux. "I'm sure even the stupidest of seventh years can manage to _read_ it, if not brew it."

"Mr. Winner, if you are suggesting..." Snape began.

"I am suggesting, _sir_, that your students, my classmates, do not need _me _to tell them how to brew this potion." Quatre smiled sweetly. "They have you for that."

Professor Snape was taken aback by that before beginning anew. "Tell me, Mr. Winner, how it was that you brewed the _Amitto Memoria _correctly on your first attempt? I, myself, was twenty-three before I was even allowed to attempt it, and then it was a little weak. Only erased memories up to twelve days old. So, Mr. Winner, how did you make it right on your first try?"

Quatre stared at Professor Snape. He blinked. Snape actually thought this was his first time making this? "Professor," he said, very slowly as if to a small child, "I've made this potion many times before. As hard as Claudia worked us, I daresay I could make it in my sleep. Heero, too. And he's just _awful_ at potions."

"So, you're saying, Mr. Winner, that you, with willful intent, brewed a Dark Potion before the legal age?" Snape asked, sounding delighted—if it could be called delight—at the prospect of his student committing a major crime.

"In Britain, I guess," Quatre admitted. "But I wasn't in Britain at the time. I was on L1. The legal age to brew this there is twelve, if one has proper supervision."

Snape's face fell—he caught it quickly, but it fell just the same—and Quatre looked over at Heero to smile at him. To share in all the brotherly love that they had. But Heero wasn't looking at Quatre. He was looking at Duo.

"Wait a minute," Snape said, turning back to Quatre. "You said Claudia. As in DeFaux?"

Selune


	6. Classes, Take Two

Disclaimer: I do not own any things Harry Potter—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to the wonderful J. K. Rowling and whomever else she decides. I do not own anything Gundam Wing—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to (I think) Bandai and Sunrise.

Spoilers: This fic contains spoilers for books 1-5 of Harry Potter and all of the episodes of Gundam Wing. This fic does not include Endless Waltz.

Rating: R

Pairings: Neville/Harry, 2x1

Summary: Two years ago, the One Year War ended. At this time, the five heroes—the Gundam pilots—disappeared from the Muggle world. Three of them—pilots 02, 03, and 05—reappeared shortly after in the Wizarding world, as students at Hogwarts School of Witchraft and Wizardry. Now, twenty months after the fact, Heero Yuy and Quatre Winner are coming to Hogwarts, and they're bringing all of their secrets with them. The world—especially one Harry Potter—will never be the same.

Peace, Love, and Family: 

The Story of the Vanuli Three

Chapter 5: Classes, Take Two

Dorothy Catalonia was not a happy camper. Everything had been going wrong since she and her Niamos decided to come to Hogwarts. First, she got separated from Quatre and Heero on the train. She eventually found them, but that was only because she went into the guys' restroom instead of the girls'. It was a good thing she did, though. By the time she got in there, Quatre and Duo Maxwell were at each other's throats, Heero lay in the floor—somehow—asleep, and Trowa Barton stood apart from all of them, unsure what to do. 

Dorothy quickly diffused the situation, sending Maxwell and Barton away with their tails between their legs. Then she had to find out exactly what was going on. Eventually, after constant badgering, Quatre wore down and told her about Heero's and Duo's past. Every time Quatre touched Duo, apparently, their last night together would flash in his mind. Heero must be really hung up on it. Dorothy had sighed and told Quatre to wake Heero using any potion necessary, as long as it didn't hurt him. They didn't tell Heero what went on while he was sleeping.

Then, later that night, Dorothy got Sorted into a House that her unmet Niamo was not in. She'd heard of Slytherin and knew of it; she had figured that she would be Sorted there. After all, she was all about power and ambition. Hell, she was the _protector _of the three most powerful Vanuli in existence. She always made sure to mention that at parties. It made lesser Naiyamas jealous. But, seeing as her Niamos were in a different House—a rival House, to boot—Dorothy felt it would be rather hard to keep them safe. Especially Harry, who neither knew nor trusted her. And especially because she was now expected to hate all Gryffindors.

To top that off, she was now supposed to work with a _human _that oozed hatred of Heero from every pore. It took all of her willpower to fight the urge to cut off his head. The next time he made a disparaging comment about Heero, she couldn't take it any more.

"Oh, fuck this," Dorothy said, thrusting the gremlin at Rosencrantz. She was in Care of Magical Creatures. Thankfully, Slytherin shared it—like Potions—with Gryffindor. Dorothy always felt better when her Niamos were in sight. It made it easier to spy on—er, watch over them. She made her way over to Quatre and Heero amid a sea of shocked stares and much pointing. She plopped on the grass beside her "children" and picked up a gremlin. It was still fuzzy.

"So, how have you been?" she asked innocently as the other Gryffindors—as well as the Slytherins—looked at them, wide-eyed and slack-jawed. Even Professor Hagrid stared. It was rude. Dorothy would have said something about it, but Heero chose that time to speak. 

"It's been all right," he said, picking up a gremlin of his own. It was starting to lose its hair—it tried to bite him. Heero smacked it on the head, and it settled down. "The Divinations professor hates me, and Duo won't even look in my direction, but our Housemates are all nice. Especially our roommates."

Dorothy took that as in-public Heeroese for what would in private be (while jumping up and down), "Yay! Harry likes us! Yay!" She turned to Quatre to confirm this translation when her mind went back to what he said first. Dorothy would have to discover if that was the truth, and if so, eliminate him/her. As for Maxwell, Dorothy agreed with Quatre. Heero was better off without him and should never have been involved with him. He would never understand, and any attempt to make him understand would, likely, hurt Heero more than he already was. No, Heero needed to get over Maxwell. Maybe if she set him up with a nice Veela? Veela were much more powerful than humans. They smelled better, too.

"Who is your Divinations teacher?" she asked, her voice leaving no room for argument. They would tell her.

"Trelawny," Quatre said, probably knowing what she planned to do. Most likely, he would be relieved that he wouldn't have to deal with it alone. "You know, I think Professor Snape hates me, too."

Dorothy let go of the gremlin—its hair was falling off in big lumps, and frankly, it was gross—and turned her full attention on Quatre. She knew of her Head of House's biases—basically, he held all the ones that the students did—and she heard him completely ripping into Quatre before lunch. How many teachers was she going to have to take out? They really should have stuck with Dorothy's original plan: grab Harry and run with him. 

"At least, he _did _hate me, until I told him that Claudia DeFaux was my sister and tutored me in Potions this year. Then he just seemed envious. I really should owl ole' Claud and thank her," Quatre said.

Dorothy simmered down. Quatre really should know better than to say things like "hate" in reference to how somebody felt about him or Heero. It always set her off. Then, it was just a hop, skip, and a jump to a dead body. Heero learned the hard way that an angry Dorothy was not desirable when he snuck out of the base to go to a party. Dorothy guessed Quatre didn't learn from the experience. She was glad that she wasn't going to have to kill Professor Snape, though. She rather liked him—he was snarky and sour.

Dorothy heard footsteps coming their way from the Slytherin territory of the fenced-in yard. She groaned. _I swear, if that's Rosencrantz, I'm throwing two hairless gremlins on him and spraying him with a water hose. I'll have to conjure one, but it'll be worth it._

Thankfully, it was not Rosencrantz. Well, he was there, but he wasn't alone. At the lead of all of the other Slytherins—Crabbe, Goyle, Bulstrode, Parkinson, Rosencrantz, even Barton and Maxwell—walked the boy who had just last night introduced himself as head Slytherin, Draco Malfoy. Personally, Dorothy couldn't understand why the others followed him. He was cowardly and weak-willed. He would back down from a fight as soon as his opponent showed his teeth. He was not a leader. He was...

Walking towards Harry. The stupid, slimy, wretch was going to try to intimidate _her _Niamo. Well, not now, not ever. Even though she knew Harry could take care of himself against Malfoy—after all, Malfoy was only human—she still wanted to be there close by, just in case. She got up and motioned for Quatre and Heero to stay put.

Malfoy and his gang were on one side, Harry and the Gryffindors were on the other. They stood facing each other, Harry and Malfoy in the middle of their respective groups, their seconds fanning out around them. A tall, red-haired guy named Weasley and a bushy-haired girl named Granger stood on either side of Harry, signifying that they were next in rank. Barton and Maxwell did the same thing to Malfoy. It surprised Dorothy to no end that these children knew Vanulian dueling practices. If they truly did, then Dorothy knew what came next. She wasn't going to let that happen.

Dorothy pushed her way through the crowd, shoving her way past the lower-ranking Slytherins and Gryffindors. She hoped that Quatre and Heero had enough sense to stay back. A quick look back proved that she was not so lucky—they were following very close behind her. She sighed in exasperation and stepped up her pace. If she moved fast enough, she could render the situation neutral before Heero and Quatre got in the path of danger.

Dorothy stepped between Malfoy and Harry just as they raised their wands. "What seems to be the problem here?" she asked, favoring Malfoy with a harsh scowl. She turned to Harry, saw that he was unharmed, and turned back to Malfoy. She tore into him—verbally, this time. He might no be so lucky after his next attempt to hurt what was hers. "Are you stupid, Malfoy? Attacking Potter in broad daylight! With all of his friends to support him and report you, _and _with Professor Hagrid set to come back any minute! Did you really think it would accomplish anything? That attacking Potter might get you anything more than dead?" Malfoy started to protest, but Dorothy interrupted him. "Don't say anything. I may not have been here long, but even _I_ know that _you _are a disgrace to Slytherin!"

Dorothy stormed out of the crowd. This time, she was happy about Quatre and Heero following her. She was shaking with anger and the need to kill all who hurt her Niamos. It was hard to hold that in—it was an instinct built into her caste—to not walk up to Malfoy and turn his bones to mush. It would be so easy. And satisfying. She could almost hear the _squish_ now.

Dorothy felt a wave of warmth and knew that Heero was touching her. He knew just how she got when her Niamos were threatened—he'd had to stop her from killing a _lot _of people, including his Healer—and he knew how to calm her down. It took him a while to be able to do it correctly, but now he mastered his touch. It soothed her instantly.

"Thanks," she said as she felt all of her aggression melt away.

"Welcome," Heero said. He stopped rubbing circles on her back. He looked back and winced. Dorothy looked, too. Everyone was leaving—class was over.

"We have to go," Quatre said. He flashed a small smile at Dorothy. "We'll get in touch with you later."

Dorothy hugged her Niamos hard. She didn't know when she would next be able to see them, and it saddened her. If anybody hurt them, Dorothy would be very angry, indeed.

***

Harry hoped his next class—Defense Against the Dark Arts—would be more normal than the others were. The others had been _weird_. Especially Care of Magical Creatures. A Slytherin never approached a Gryffindor in friendship. No Gryffindor would know what to do if one did. And a Slytherin _never _stopped a fight. Not even at the beginning, before the curses started flying. They were just too cowardly. AndHarry was sure that the girl—Catalonia, he thought her name was—checked him out before turning on Malfoy. Weird.

But here Harry was now, in his almost absolute favorite class—it was second only to Charms, and there, it wasn't so much the class he liked but the subject. Harry loved Defense Against the Dark Arts because, for the second year in a row, Remus Lupin would be teaching it. Professor Lupin (Remus, when they were alone or with other friends), was a good friend of Harry's. 

He helped out Harry a lot after fifth year, when Harry's godfather and Remus' best friend, Sirius Black, died. Remus helped him come to terms with Sirus' death. He even tried to get Harry to believe that it wasn't his fault. Harry knew it was—if he had tried looking in his mirror, he would have known Sirius was safe and wouldn't have gone after him. Remus also helped Harry accept his destiny, helped him accept that he would either be murdered or be a murderer.

In class, Professor Lupin got away from teaching the Unforgivables and Dark creatures, which were what he taught in Harry's third year. Instead, he began teaching more curses and counter-curses. In short, he was trying to teach Harry everything he could before he faced Voldemort again. They both knew—as did Ron, Hermione, and Neville—that their next meeting may be his last. Sometimes, Remus even gave Harry private tutoring lessons. 

Defense Against the Dark Arts was the one class Harry knew he could always count on to be normal.

Except, of course, that he couldn't. Professor Lupin walked into class. His robes weren't ragged anymore because he inherited half of Sirius' fortune upon his death; the other half went to Harry. Professor Lupin looked at his students and told them to get out their books.

"For the next few days," Professor Lupin said, "we will be talking about Gifts. What they are, who has them, and most importantly, how to defend against them."

Harry got out his quill and parchment. He heard the other Gryffindors do the same. Professor Lupin didn't usually teach the first day—he told them what he was _going to _teach them in the upcoming year. This was weird.

"As several of you know—those who continue to take History of Magic—witches and wizards used to be more powerful, on average, than we are today," Professor Lupin said. Harry sat up straighter, attentive. He didn't know that; he dropped Binns after fifth year. "However, several of the wizards of olds' magic is present in some people today. They are called Gifts and are extremely rare.

"There are four Gifts: the Gift of Tears, the Gift of Blood, the Gift of Flesh, and the Gift of Bones. Each Gift has a special quality about it, one that has to do with its name. For example, a person with the Gift of Flesh can cause people to experience intense pain when he touches them."

Harry thought about that. He wondered what the use of it would be, especially when the Cruciatus Curse would work just as well. And you would have to be really close to the victim to do it. Harry listened as Professor Lupin explained some of the attributes of the others. Someone with the Gift of Tears could make their tears acidic. When the tears touched others, they were so powerful that they could burn a hole clear through—even somewhere as thick and muscular as a thigh. The Gift of Blood could, if a small opening was already there (meaning, if you had even a papercut), call all of the blood in a person's body out of it. The Gift of Bones could break every bone in another's body, even from a distance. Harry thought it sounded rather gruesome.

"Does anyone have any questions so far?" Professor Lupin asked. Several hands shot up. Hermione's, of course. Harry wasn't surprised to see that. She always wanted to make sure she understood the material correctly, which she almost always did. Harry had only ever heard her be wrong once while in class. Harry was surprised, though, at the number of other hands raised. Ron's. Dean's. Neville's. Heero's, too, but for some reason, Quatre was trying to make him put it down.

Professor Lupin—probably trying to put him out of his misery—called on Heero.

"It's a stupid question," Quatre growl-whispered to Heero. Harry sat close enough to them to just barely hear it. "Don't ask."

Heero shook off Quatre's arm and looked at Professor Lupin. "Everything you've said about the Gifts so far have been bad. Why? Surely there must be _something _good about them?"

Professor looked as stunned as Harry felt. A Dark Art—as that is what it surely was, otherwise Professor Lupin wouldn't be teaching about it—being positive, in any respect, was unheard of. Harry couldn't think of anything good that the Gifts could be used for; at least, not as Professor Lupin described them.

But Heero continued. "Because I can think of several positive aspects of the Gifts." Everyone was staring at Heero now—except for Quatre, who's head was shaking in his hands—but he didn't seem to care. "Take the Gift of Flesh, for example. The owner can heal any flesh wounds he or she has, _as well as_ those of another person's, if he can touch it. The Gift of Bones. A person with that can, almost painlessly, regrow bones. The two of them together could remake entire body parts—arms, hands, legs. And the Gift of Tears. Sure, they can be used as poisons. They can also be used as medicines. I even know of one case where they brought someone back from almost-death. Without the Gift, he surely would have died. The Gift of Blood. Someone with that power can almost instantly clot a cut. Think of the advantages of that."

"Are you quite done?" Professor Lupin asked good-naturedly. He smiled at Heero. "I am aware of the good qualities of the Gifts. Thank you for reminding me to speak about them."

Professor Lupin went to the board and listed some of the positive attributes of the Gifts. Harry didn't pay attention; he was too busy staring at Heero. How did Heero—and Harry supposed, Quatre—know that much about the Gifts? Harry was still thinking about it when Ron told him class was over.

Everyone left to go back to the common room—Lupin was the last class on Mondays—but Harry lingered around. He wanted to talk to Remus. Harry hung out by the door, waiting for Remus to notice that he was still in there.

Harry heard quiet talking right outside the door.

"Why did you do that?" one voice asked. Harry identified it as belonging to Quatre. He figured Quatre was talking to Heero. "These people aren't stupid. They'll figure us out in a second with you giving them clues like that."

Harry's suspicions were answered when the other person began talking.

"Quat, I'm sorry," Heero said. He certainly sounded it, his voice low and whining. "I just had to make sure they knew—that _Harry _knew—that the Gifts aren't inherently bad." 

"Well, you've certainly done that," Quatre answered hotly. "Let's go, before someone comes and overhears us. God, you're so careless sometimes."

Harry heard footsteps leading away and turned around. He rested the back of his head against the cold stone wall and thought. Why would Heero want Harry, in particular, to know that the Gifts could be used for good? He needed to think about this some more. Harry turned to leave when Remus finally noticed him.

"Something you needed, Harry?" Remus asked distractedly, shuffling through some papers on his desk.

"Yeah," Harry said. "I just wanted to talk to you about tutoring."

He promised himself that he would think about Quatre and Heero later. Who they were, what they wanted with him, and why. Now, though, he'd just work on his survival skills.

Selune


	7. A Prophecy

Disclaimer: I do not own any things Harry Potter—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to the wonderful J. K. Rowling and whomever else she decides. I do not own anything Gundam Wing—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to (I think) Bandai and Sunrise.

Spoilers: This fic contains spoilers for books 1-5 of Harry Potter and all of the episodes of Gundam Wing. This fic does not include Endless Waltz.

Rating: R

Pairings: Neville/Harry, 2x1

Summary: Two years ago, the One Year War ended. At this time, the five heroes—the Gundam pilots—disappeared from the Muggle world. Three of them—pilots 02, 03, and 05—reappeared shortly after in the Wizarding world, as students at Hogwarts School of Witchraft and Wizardry. Now, twenty months after the fact, Heero Yuy and Quatre Winner are coming to Hogwarts, and they're bringing all of their secrets with them. The world—especially one Harry Potter—will never be the same.

Peace, Love, and Family: 

The Story of the Vanuli Three

Chapter 6: A Prophecy

It was two weeks into term—the second Friday—and Harry still had not checked out the new kids. He hadn't even told Ron and Hermione his suspicions! Which was funny, actually, as he didn't really have suspicions, per say, but really suspicions of suspicions. The thing was, though, Harry was just too busy to be overly concerned about Quatre and Heero.

It was his seventh and final year. He was going to take his N.E.W.T.s in approximately nine months. He had to study for those—Hermione was making _sure _he studied. Thirteen days into term, and she already had weekly study schedules drawn out for the Dream Team. There were pie charts and everything. On top of his regular classes, Harry had extra "tutoring" sessions on Monday, Tuesday, and Wednesday nights with Remus. He would have it more often, but Harry had Astronomy on Thursdays and Fridays, and he absolutely _refused _to have any type of class on Saturday or Sunday. Harry would also have Quidditch practice whenever the new captain decided. Hopefully, Ron would be sympathetic and not work the team to death. After all, it was his seventh year, too, and he also had a lot of things going on.

That was where Harry was going now—to Quidditch practice. Actually, he was going to the preliminary Quidditch tryouts. The Gryffindor team currently had only three members: Ginny Weasley as a Chaser, Ron as Keeper, and Harry as Seeker. Briefly, in fifth year, Harry was banned from Quidditch. Ginny was Seeker then. When he came back in sixth year, Dumbledore lifted the ban, and Harry returned as Seeker. Ginny moved to Chaser. She was a really good Chaser—in league with Alicia Spinnet, if Harry said so himself. Last year, the other two Chasers and the two Beaters graduated. 

So they needed to replace them. Ron wanted Ginny and Harry to be there to show solidarity or something. Which was actually pretty stupid, Harry thought, because it wasn't like he and Ginny actually had much to do with the decisions. It wasn't like there was even much to decide today. The pitch was open for Gryffindors to practice for tryouts, that was all. Harry really didn't want to go—what he wanted to do was sleep until dinner, eat, go to Astronomy, sleep again, and then go to Hogsmeade tomorrow—but he would. Not just because Ron was his captain, but because he was his friend.

Speaking of which, Harry was late. He picked up his pace. In other words, he went into a full-out sprint. He was _going _to get there on time. Harry did not relish seeing the hurt look on Ron's face if he was late. The one that no one else but Harry and Hermione could tell was anything other than Ron's normal expression, but to the Dream Team, it was the picture of a puppy who was beaten and then kicked for good measure.

He was not fated to be on time, Harry found as he ran straight into something big and black and kind of soft. Harry landed on the something he hit, just catching his breath. He opened his eyes, and the black was explained. A Hogwarts robe. Gryffindor. It also explained the soft and big.

"Sorry, Neville," Harry croaked, quickly trying to get up. It didn't work out quite as planned, and Harry fell back onto Neville.

"Oomph!"

Harry wasn't sure which one of them said that, but whoever it was, he wholeheartedly agreed. This was not going right. It wasn't even supposed to be going at all! Harry was supposed to be suave and debonair—he wasn't sure what that meant, but it sounded good—around Neville. He was supposed to subtly feel him out, and when he discovered that Neville liked boys (which, of course, he would), Harry was supposed to ask him out. Neville would, of course, say yes, and it would all be great from there on out. Harry was _not _supposed to hit the object of his affection at a dead run and then fall over him again when he tried to get up. This was so embarrassing.

"Are you going to get up?" Neville asked. Harry looked down, startled to realize that he was still lying on Neville, trapping him. Harry was _sure _that he had already gotten up, but he was just so comfortable now.

"No," slipped out of Harry before he could stop it. Harry clammed his mouth shut, hoping Neville hadn't heard. He didn't mean to say that, but he didn't go back on his word, either. He didn't get up.

Neville chuckled. It was a deep, throaty sound that went straight to Harry's private bits. Harry had heard Neville laugh, giggle, even guffaw, but he had never heard him chuckle. Harry wouldn't have expected it to be so deep, and he wouldn't have thought such a simple thing could leave him so affected. But there it was, and there he was, so there they were.

"Umm, okay, Harry, get up now," Neville said after he could his chuckling—not laughter, it was manlier, sexier—under control. 

Harry groaned but obliged him. A little. He didn't get up, just kind of rolled to the side of Neville. He felt his face get hot. He was so stupid! He hoped Neville couldn't tell that he was embarrassed.

Neville sat up, and all of a sudden, he didn't seem as confident and manly as he was a moment before. He was timid and a little shy. Like he had been in first year. Harry thought it was sweet, even if he couldn't figure out the cause behind it. Harry sat up to get a better look.

"Ah, thanks," Neville said, looking visibly relieved. Harry didn't know what he did, but he smiled all the same. "It's-it's just, this is going to be so much _easier _if I can look you in the eye. You know?"

No, Harry didn't know, but if it would help, he would look into Neville's eyes all day long. They were pretty. A light blue, like the sky.

"It's-it's just—" Neville took a deep breath. He looked towards the castle for a moment, then back to Harry. He was calmer when he looked back, his jaw set in the stubborn manner befitting a Gryffindor. "A little birdie said that you like me. As in _like me_ like me."

Harry listened in horror. How did Neville know? Who told him? The only people that knew were Harry and... That bitch! Harry would kill her! He would wrap his hands around her scrawny, knew-too-much-for-her-own-good, Ravenclaw neck and squeeze the life out of her like juice from an orange.

"I only say this because—" Neville said, but Harry interrupted him.

"You know I would never hit on you, right?" Harry asked. "Or try to grope you? Or do _anything _to jeopardize our friendship?" Harry had to get that point across. He wanted Neville to know that he would never purposefully ruin their friendship by trying to make it more, no matter how much he wanted it.

"Yeah, I know," Neville said. His shoulders slumped. "I should have know that _you _would never want _me._ I mean, you're Harry Bloody Potter. And you're fucking gorgeous. It's just, well, Luna said some things that I probably got all wrong, and—"

"You think I'm gorgeous?" Harry asked. He had to make sure he heard it right. What if Neville actually said "You're fucking hideous" or something of the like? He'd be terribly embarrassed by what he was about to do.

"Well, yeah," Neville said. "I mean, you're obviously the best looking—"

Harry didn't wait to find out what he was the "best looking" of, and Neville didn't attempt to keep talking. It would have been rather difficult, really, as their lips were currently occupied elsewhere. 

Harry kissed Neville, a light peck on the lips, and it was nothing like he expected. Harry had only one kiss to compare this to, but even so—and even though it lasted, maybe, 0.2 seconds—Harry felt confident in saying it was the best kiss, on the earth or in the colonies, ever. 

Then he was immediately proved wrong when Neville swooped up and captured his lips for a second time. He pulled Harry down onto him and rolled over. Now it was Harry who was trapped underneath Neville, and he found that he liked it. Neville tasted of licorice and ham, a combination Harry never tasted before but soon discovered he liked.

Harry reached up to tangle his hands in Neville's hair. It was as soft as he expected. Harry shifted, and Neville settled between his parted legs. Harry licked Neville's lower lip and opened his mouth, encouraging Neville's tongue to seek entrance. It did, and their tongues dueled. They twined together, and it wasn't near as gross as Harry would have previously thought. In fact, he really liked it.

The kiss ended all too soon as Neville pulled back. He sat up and touched his lips. "Wow," Neville said.

"Yeah," Harry concurred. He sat up by Neville. "This was not what I expected when I came outside. Nice, but unexpected."

"Yeah," Neville said, his hand tracing over Harry's. "I think I'm going to have to give our little birdie a present."

Harry agreed and leaned into Neville. A thought tickled at the back of his mind. He couldn't think of what it was, though. Something about a birdie. That was it! Harry sat up straight as it came to him. Birdie. Snidget. Snitch. Quidditch. Ron! Oh, he was late! Majorly!

Harry shot up, and once again, his robe got tangled with Neville's. "I'm late, I'm late!" Harry cried. He was so stupid! Now he was going to have to deal with Ron's beaten puppy-dog face. Harry leaned down to give Neville another kiss, but he stopped himself. If he kissed Neville, he'd never make it to the pitch. "Sorry, Nev, but I've got to go. Supposed to meet Ron. Quidditch. Practice tryouts." Harry tried to run away, but Neville grabbed his hand.

"That's what I came to tell you," Neville said when Harry tried to jerk out of his grasp. "Ginny never showed—she's out with her new boyfriend, Zacharias Smith, I think—and Ron told me to tell you not to come. It's not really unity and solidarity if only two-thirds of the team's there."

"Oh, okay," Harry said. His heart stopped trying to jump out of his chest. He sat back down beside Neville. An awkwardness fell over them that was never there before. Harry wished it would go away, and they could make out some more. Or just talk. Either was okay with Harry.

"So," Harry said.

"So," Neville echoed.

"You want to go to Hogsmeade with me tomorrow" Harry asked, trying to sound nonchalant. Which—despite what anyone my say otherwise—was extremely difficult when his insides were twisting up.

"Merlin, yes," Neville said, sounding as relieved that Harry asked as Harry was that Neville consented. This was turning out to be a good day.

A few hours later—hours spent snogging behind Greenhouse 4—when they parted ways, it was still a good day.

***

It was not a good day. Heero supposed that everything they—whoever They were—said about Friday the thirteenth had to be true. As long as its bad luck and general horribleness could last two weeks. Every day at Hogwarts was worse than the last. Heero was beginning to regret not taking Dorothy's suggestion of stealing Harry and running. 

Except, Harry looked happy—at least, he had when Heero saw him and Neville rolling on the front lawn together, connected at the lips. Heero had put a Notice-Me-Not charm on them and hoped they had the sense to take it someplace more private—the spell wore off after thirty minutes. And Quatre was in seventh heaven. He spent all of his free time in the Potions classroom with Professor Snape. He was the first Gryffindor in the history of Hogwarts to be liked—not merely tolerated—by a Slytherin teacher.

Quatre was still mad at Heero. He wouldn't talk to him, and Heero was lonely. Quatre always fussed and fussed at him for not appreciating his powers—the Gift, the Sight, others—but when Heero stood up for one, Quat blew up at him. Sometimes, Heero's oldest brother was incomprehensible.

Madame Trewlawny still hated him. Apparently, she used to predict Harry's gruesome death every class. Now, it was always Heero's. The scary thing was, sometimes she would predict him dying in a way in which he had already died. He was supposed to die three times today—on Wednesday, Madame Trelawny told him how he would die for the rest of the week.

Duo was the worst, though. He wouldn't even _look_ at Heero. How was he supposed to explain things if Duo wouldn't even look at him? Not that Heero would tell the truth—at least, not the whole truth and nothing but—but it would be nice to be given the opportunity to do so.

And Daemon. Daemon, Daemon, Daemon. Daemon the friend. Daemon the brother. Daemon the traitor. Heero though he was rid of him when he turned twelve. But, of course, no Hell would be complete without its own personal Judas.

And, for Heero, Hogwarts was Hell. Trowa—and Wufei, who was also at Hogwarts, in Ravenclaw—was on Duo's side. Dorothy was the only person he knew who wasn't mad at him. And he couldn't exactly see her all the time because (one) she was in Slytherin and (two) he would have to tell her why Quatre was mad at him. Chances were, she'd be pissed as hell at him.

Heero was tired. With Quatre mad at him, he couldn't sleep properly. Quatre hadn't kicked him out of bed or anything—he didn't want to have to sleep on his own—but he wouldn't touch Heero. He wouldn't comfort Heero after he had a nightmare. Granted, Heero was pretty good at blocking his feelings (including gut-clenching terror) from his brother. 

Plus, Harry had nightmares every night. And every night, Heero and Quatre would always crawl into bed with him and soothe him. It always worked. At least Heero was touching someone, but it wasn't the same. They always left before daylight, and Harry never mentioned it. Heero wasn't sure he even knew what the source of his good dreams was. Between comforting Harry and being ignored by Quatre, Heero wasn't sleeping.

That's why he decided to take a nap. At least, he would try to take a nap. The jury was out on whether or not he would actually be able to sleep, especially all by himself. Heero lay down in his bed—unused for thirteen days—and snuggled under the covers. Heero wasn't cold (even if he was, he could withstand it), but the mattress was soft, and he had learned to appreciate all the creature comforts life had to give. 

Growing up, he lived in a sterile building and slept on hard cots in a cold room with eleven other kids and one blanket among them. The strongest one always got it. Heero was never the strongest, so he never got the blanket. He was always cold. Now, anytime Heero had a blanket, he used it. He had too much of being cold and uncomfortable. 

Heero allowed himself to relax and was out like a light almost immediately. He stiffened and sat up, his eyes open and glassy. Heero stared at a spot near the door that only he could see. He opened his mouth to speak and did not know it.

"Once upon a time," Heero said, not hearing the words coming out of his mouth, or even knowing that he spoke, "not so very long ago, three very special children were born. These children, born of the heir of the clan LeFey, were the first ever Vanuli triplets in existence. The clan LeFey rejoiced upon their arrival, for it was said that triplets—infraternal though they were—were very powerful, indeed. 

"Many plans were made for the children, as both the new heirs and a future triumvirate. Sadly, the plans were not to come to fruition. On the day of their births, four men came to the mother—they wanted to take the triplets. Being a woman, she knew that it was her duty to give her sons to their rightful fathers, as three of them were. One of the men—the only one whose seed did not create a child--wished to take all three with him, for it was with his magic that the children had been created. However, the mother knew that the man was a very evil man indeed and would use her children to his own devices. Knowing this, she did the only thing she could; she gave one child to each of the fathers. With this done, she effectively protected two of her children from the man.

"The Vanuli world wept when it discovered what had happened. However, after weeks of grief, a lowly Seer came forward. She said to the clan one sentence, but it was enough to bring joy to the bereaved peoples. She said to them, "On the night of their maturation, the Vanuli three will rise up and defeat two great evils."

"But there was much the Seer did not say. She did not tell the Vanuli of the First's family. How he loved his stepmother as his own. That he thought himself human and did not know he even had brothers until he felt one die. She did not tell of the Second's life. That his father and stepmother would die when he was a baby. That he would be sent to live with his stepmother's family. How he would not know of magic until he was eleven. How he, alone, would temporarily injure one of the great evils he was destined to defeat. She did not tell of the Third, the only one of whom the evil man got possession. She did not tell how the man would suck the magic from him, and how every time it would kill him a little more. She did not say how many innocent or misguided people the three would kill along the way or if they would love one another.

"Most of all, she did not say that, after the Vanuli Three defeat the two great evils, they themselves would have the opportunity to become more powerful than the whole of the entire world. Whether or not they take that opportunity—and what they do with their power, should they take it—will be decided on their eighteenth Life Day.

"That day is fast coming. Choose well, my Three."

Heero blinked and came back to himself. He saw that he was sitting up but couldn't remember doing it. The last thing he remembered, he was lying down, about to go to sleep. _Guess that's not happening n_ow_, _he thought and got out of bed. He walked out of the door and didn't look back.

***

If Heero had looked back, he would've seen Harry. After leaving Neville, Harry came back to the room to find Ron. He wanted to make sure Ron wasn't mad at him for not showing up to the pitch, just like Ginny. Instead of Ron, Harry found his new roommate—his new _suspicious_ roommate—acting suspiciously. Heero sat there, on his bed, not saying anything. It wasn't until Harry was completely in the room that he spoke. It was as if he wanted Harry to hear what he said.

Harry knew what was happening to Heero the moment he started talking. He had seen it once before. The Madame Trelawny gave a real prediction. Harry supposed that it wasn't really a prediction, but a sort of prophecy. Whatever they were, Harry did not want to run into those "Vanuli Three." Whatever that was. They didn't sound like anyone he wanted to know.

Harry watched as Heero hurried out of the room. Why did he have the urge to run after Heero and give him a hug?

Selune


	8. Duo and the Gifts

Disclaimer: I do not own any things Harry Potter—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to the wonderful J. K. Rowling and whomever else she decides. I do not own anything Gundam Wing—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to (I think) Bandai and Sunrise.

Spoilers: This fic contains spoilers for books 1-5 of Harry Potter and all of the episodes of Gundam Wing. This fic does not include Endless Waltz.

Rating: R

Pairings: Neville/Harry, 2x1

Summary: Two years ago, the One Year War ended. At this time, the five heroes—the Gundam pilots—disappeared from the Muggle world. Three of them—pilots 02, 03, and 05—reappeared shortly after in the Wizarding world, as students at Hogwarts School of Witchraft and Wizardry. Now, twenty months after the fact, Heero Yuy and Quatre Winner are coming to Hogwarts, and they're bringing all of their secrets with them. The world—especially one Harry Potter—will never be the same.

Peace, Love, and Family: 

The Story of the Vanuli Three

Chapter 7: Duo and the Gifts

Heero was looking for Quatre. If he couldn't sleep, he was damn well going to make his brother forgive him. Thus, Heero was in the Dungeons. Quatre was probably down here making a potion. Once Heero found him, he would wait until Quatre was finished with whatever he was making. Then, he would pounce.

Heero came to the Potions classroom. He poked in through the cracked door, and as expected, Quatre was in there. He was huddled over a cauldron, fumes rising up from it. They were red mixed with wisps of pink. It smelled faintly of jasmine—it reminded Heero of Booamyie. As far as Heero could tell, it _was _Booamyie. But for the life of him, he couldn't see why Quatre would risk brewing an intoxicating, yet tasty, drink _in Snape's_ _classroom_. As much as Heero knew about potions, though, it could be—and probably was—something harmless. One of those healing potions Quatre liked to carry around, perhaps.

Whatever it was, judging by the sheer amount of ingredients Quatre had at his side, it was going to take a while. Because he didn't know exactly how stable the potion would be now, Heero decided not to just burst in the room and startle his brother. He could leave and come back in a while. Heero didn't want to do that, though. What if he overestimated the time it took to brew the thing? He would come back, and Quatre would be gone. So Heero did what he already decided—he would wait by the door and snatch Quatre as he came out.

Heero sat. And sat. And sat. Heero was just about to interrupt Quatre for the hell of it when he heard footsteps. Several footsteps. Heero had forgotten that Potions was in Slytherin territory. He looked down and hoped—prayed—that the people coming were little first years that he didn't know and wouldn't risk bothering an older student. The footsteps stopped right in front of Heero. He looked up.

Today was not his lucky day. There were three of them, all seventh years. He knew every one of them. Trowa Barton, Duo Maxwell, and Daemon Rosencrantz. 

Heero stood up, holding onto the wall as he did so. His knees creaked as he stood; his bones couldn't take the strain of sitting so long anymore. Heero lifted his head and looked Duo straight in the eyes. He almost flinched away when he saw the hardness there, but he kept his ground. Duo's eyes bore pure hatred.

That's why Heero was so surprised when Duo told the other two to leave. Heero watched them walk away, if only to relieve his senses. Looking at Duo, being so close to him, was overwhelming to Heero after almost two years away from him. He could smell him—musky and a little like vanilla. If Heero reached out, even a little bit, he would be able to touch Duo. He could even feel Duo's body heat emanating from him. Heero barely stopped himself from grabbing Duo and kissing the life out of him. 

He smiled at Duo. It quickly vanished as Duo stood there, unmoving, unsmiling. Much like Heero during the war.

"Now let's get one thing straight, Yuy," Duo said. He sounded cold, harsh, nothing like the Duo that Heero used to know. It saddened Heero to know that, if he didn't cause the entire thing, he at least played a big part in making Duo this way. "I don't like you. I used to like you. Hell, I used to _love _you. But that all changed when you left. So stop staring at me. I will _never _want you again."

Heero felt his heart fall to his feet as Duo turned to leave. No! He was not going to let Duo leave like that. Duo had to love him! Heero's hand shot out, almost of its own accord, and grabbed Duo. Heero turned him around, held onto his head, and proceeded to kiss Duo with everything he had. 

Heero poured all of his love, all of his hopes and dreams, and all of his magic into the kiss. He could feel the waves of magic, of pleasure, running from himself to Duo. He was draining himself—for Duo, to make him see that everything could be as it was before. To make Duo love him again. Heero pressed his entire body against Duo's. He wrapped his arms around Duo as his body stiffened. 

Duo broke the kiss and moaned. He threw back his head and panted, in the throws of ecstasy. Duo began to convulse, and he practically _howled _with pleasure. Heero felt warmth at his stomach. He reclaimed Duo's lips to drown out his screams. 

After he regained control of himself, Duo wrenched out of Heero's grasp. Again, his eyes could melt rocks.

"I don't know what exactly you just did to me, Squib, but don't ever touch me again," Duo said through clenched teeth. He stalked away—angrily, if a bit wobbily—in the direction Trowa and Daemon went.

Without Duo's support, Heero sank to the floor. After his little display, he didn't have the energy to hold himself upright. It wasn't _what_ he did that was so draining—giving someone an orgasm was the easiest thing in the world. The emotion Heero put into the action caused the effect to amplify, and thus drain his magic quicker. Heero held his head in his hands. He wanted to cry but wouldn't let himself—not in public. 

Heero hoped he was recovered by the time Quatre finished his potion. His brother would not be pleased if he learned what stupid thing Heero did this time. Especially one that didn't even work. Of course, Heero wouldn't try to hide it from Quatre. He planned on telling his brother when he saw him. Heero just wanted to be able to run away should he need to.

Arms wrapped around him, and Heero—comforted by the touch, as always—allowed himself to cry. He knew Quatre would put up some sort of privacy spell around them. Quatre (and it was Quatre, Heero could smell the Booamyie on him) maneuvered Heero into his lap. He stroked Heero's back as Heero sobbed into his robe. 

As Heero cried, he could feel his sadness going away, little by little. He wept away his sorrow, and when he was done, he couldn't remember why he was on the floor. He asked Quatre.

"You had a dizzy spell," Quatre said, still hugging Heero at the shoulders. "You weren't hurt, though. You'll be okay."

Quatre was speaking to him again! Quatre helped him not get hurt, just like always. Heero thought his face would break, he was smiling so much. A yawn broke his smile, and Heero remembered why he was in the Dungeons in the first place.

"Kitten," Heero said, using a very rare nickname he himself gave to Quatre. He only used it when he really wanted something and had to be extremely pitiful to get it. "I'm tired. Let's go take a nap."

***

When Harry left his room, he looked for Hermione. He needed to talk to someone about what he just heard, and she was the smartest person he knew. Harry went down to the common room, but Hermione wasn't there. 

Lavendar and Parvati were, though. Harry would ask them if they knew where Hermione was. If they didn't know, he would look for her in the library. Harry went up to Lavendar and Parvati—they were talking, as usual.

"He looked upset," Lavendar said, gesturing toward the portrait hole. "And sleepy. That must be why he didn't say hi. I wonder why he's not been getting enough sleep?" Lavendar twirled her hair and dreamily looked at the door. "I'm sure he'll act really nice tomorrow, after he's had a good night's rest."

Parvati rolled her eyes. "Lav, dear, you know that I'm not one to judge—" Lavendar snorted. "You _know _I'm not one to judge, but Heero just seems really mean. He never talks to anyone other than Quatre and that Slytherin girl. He's antisocial and not good enough for you." Parvati put on the same dreamy expression Lavendar had. "Now Quatre—_he's _a man. He's not too tall—"

"They're exactly the same height!"

"He's not to short. He's not too friendly, he's not to shy. He has gorgeous blue eyes and silky looking blonde hair. He's the perfect compliment to me."

"He's also Professor Snape's pet!" Lavendar shouted. Parvati didn't take too kindly to that and started chasing Lavendar around the room. Guessing that they would probably not be done for quite a while, Harry decided to look for Hermione by himself. 

Harry waited until the girls passed him, then he raced to the portrait and ran out of the common room. Once Harry was out of the way, he leaned against the wall to catch his breath. Girls were weird. Harry was glad he wasn't with a girl, that he had whatever it was that he had with Neville. 

Harry caught his breath, and went to look for Hermione. He looked in the library. She wasn't there. He looked in the Room of Requirement, thinking maybe the library was too loud for her to study. She wasn't there. He looked everywhere in the castle he could think of. Twice. Harry couldn't find her anywhere. Finally, it dawned on Harry that she might be with the house elves. After all, the last Harry heard, she was still up in arms about S.P.E.W.

Harry started making his way to the kitchens. His stomach seemed to like that idea, as it took the opportunity to growl loudly. Startled, Harry looked at his watch—it said, "Time for dinner. Get there fast or get there last." Harry thought it was corny, but he followed the watch's advice. Hermione was bound to be in the Great Hall. He'd get to see Neville, too.

By the time Harry got to the Great Hall, it was mostly full. One look at Gryffindor table, and Harry felt his chest get all aflutter. Right across from Ron and Hermione, Neville sat next to an empty seat. Harry sat in it.

"Where have you been?" Hermione asked as soon as his butt touched the seat. "Neville says he's been looking for you for over an hour and a half."

"Well," Harry said, filling his plate with mashed potatoes. He loved mashed potatoes. "I was looking for you, Hermione. I wanted to talk to you about something. Actually, since you're all here, why don't I just tell you all about it later?" 

They all agreed.

"Harry," Ron said, turning to face him, "we have to go to George and Fred's shop tomorrow. Fred told me that they just got more toffees in. I _have _to try them out on the first years." Hermione shot Ron a look, but he didn't seem to care. "And I'm sure George wouldn't mind seeing you too terribly much."

Last year, when Harry came out to Ron and Hermione, Ron was much more accepting than Harry figured he would be. Harry knew Ron would still be his friend, but he never thought that Ron would go so far as to try to set him up with his brother. Apparently, George told his family that he was gay the summer after Harry's fourth year. George was a great guy—and cute. If Harry didn't want Neville, he would be all over George. As it stood, though, Ron was just annoying when he tried to get them together.

Judging by the hand squeezing his thigh, Neville didn't like it much, either. Harry thought that he had to nip this in the bud right now, unless Neville started to think that Harry had two guys.

"Uhh, Ron, I'm going to Hogsmeade with Neville tomorrow," Harry said hesitantly. He hoped Neville didn't want to keep their a secret or anything. He must not because his grip relaxed. Neville had a strong grip, stronger than one would think he did. Harry hoped he wouldn't bruise.

"That's okay," Ron said. "Bring him with us. I'm sure we can get the twins to leave him alone."

He didn't get it. Dear Merlin, he didn't get it. Harry felt the hand on his thigh tighten as Ron went on about Fred and George. He knew if Neville didn't let up soon, he would bruise. He would just try telling Ron again. 

"No, no, Ron, you're not getting the point," Harry said. He point to his lips. "Read my lips, Ron. _I _am going to _Hogsmeade_ with _**Neville** tomorrow_. We won't be going to your brothers' store. We're not coming with you and Hermione. It's going to be me and Neville."

Harry shut up and let Ron have a minute to soak up what he said. Harry knew it the instant Ron understood what he meant. He turned to Neville with the exact same expression on his face as the one he gave to Ginny's boyfriends. It was not pretty. Before Neville's hand could lock Harry's thigh in a vice grip once again, Harry grabbed his hand and held it. They were in this together. Sort of.

"You and I will talk later," Ron promised Neville. Harry didn't try to persuade him otherwise, and he didn't try to tell Neville that it would be okay. Ginny always tried to make Ron not give "The Talk" to her new boyfriends—it never worked. Harry had seen some of them after "The Talk"; they were always white as sheets and walked like zombies. Half of them broke up with Ginny on the spot. The other half usually lasted about two weeks. Harry knew—he hoped—that Neville was stronger than that. And that he liked Harry enough to put up with it.

Thankfully, Ron didn't have too long to intimidate Neville. Dinner was over, and it was time for Astronomy.

***

After Astronomy—it was a Double on Fridays—Harry, Hermione, Neville, and Ron congregated in the boys' dorm room. They sat on Ron's bed. Ron actually tried to sit between Harry and Neville, but Harry moved to the other side. He knew all of Ron's tricks. They were there so Harry could get their opinion of Heero's prophecy. Now that they were all here waiting for him to speak, though, Harry couldn't quite find the words. He took a deep breath and started talking.

"Earlier today, I came in here," Harry said. He knew he sounded stupid, but continued. "There was someone else already here." Harry didn't know why, but he didn't want them to know that he was talking about Heero. "He didn't speak until I got in the room, in hearing range. It was like he _wanted _me to hear what he said." On reflection, that didn't sound too intelligent. Of course Heero wanted him to know what he was saying. That was what people did when they talked to you. "But he wasn't talking _to _me. He wasn't even looking at me. His eyes were glassy and unfocused—I think he was looking at something not there."

Hermione scoffed, apparently understanding what Harry was implying. Harry wished she wouldn't do that. This was hard enough as it was without her making fun of him.

"Umm," Harry said, trying to remember where he was. "I wouldn't say anything, except there's only one time I've ever seen someone like that. When Madame Trelawny predicted Voldemort's return. Just like her, he didn't seem to know what he said after it was over. He just stood up and walked out." 

"So what did he "predict", Harry?" Hermione asked. "He say the world was going to end?" She scoffed again and turned away, but she could still hear everything they said.

"Something like that," Harry said. He then proceeded to recite to them what Heero said, leaving out the part about the Second's life. When Harry thought about it, it sounded like his own life. It was scary, and he didn't want his friends to know. By the time he was done, Ron was horrified, Neville was confused, and Hermione was in ultra-super-brain mode.

"It's impossible," she declared after having digested the information for a sufficient amount of time. "Vanuli rarely ever have multiple births—and never more than two. With their physiology, it kills them. Every time a Vanuli had twins, the mother died during the birth. For a Vanuli to have _triplets_ and live to tell about it—or make a decision affecting her children's lives—is not going to happen."

How did she know that? Before today, Harry never even heard of Vanuli, let alone facts about their reproduction happenings. One look at Ron and Neville proved that they were thing the exact same thing. Hermione noticed this.

"Oh, honestly!" she exclaimed. "Don't any of you ever read?" Harry shook his head mutely. It was best not to speak when Hermione was in a rant. "There's an entire stack all about Vanuli in the Magical Beings section of the library!"

"There's a Magical Beings section?" Neville asked. Neville obviously didn't spend enough time with Hermione to know that one did not ask questions until the question and answer session at the end of the lecture. Hermione was usually most of the way calmed down by then. Thankfully, Neville quickly corrected his mistake. "I mean, I'm in the library all the time. I'm just usually in the Herbology section."

That cooled her off. For a moment there—when her face got really red and she was just about to take a deep breath, the better to lecture with—Harry was afraid. Hermione was scary when it came to books.

"Anyway," Hermione said, "as I was saying, Vanuli women _cannot _have triplets. Their wombs are made such that they can only accommodate one six pound baby and all that comes with it. They simply won't get any bigger. The handful of times that twins were born, they only weighed about three pounds each. Triplets would only weight two—or less. That's simply not big enough to survive."

Harry thought about that a moment. There must be some way for triplets to be born, or else how could Heero predict that? If it was even a true prediction to begin with. If it was possible, what would happen? Harry voiced his question.

"I've already said that it's _not _possible," Hermione stated. Harry could see that she was about to give him all the reasons why again—this time going into graphic detail, which he didn't want to hear—so he interrupted her before she could start.

"But if it _was_," Harry said, "what would happen? What could be done?"

Neville answered with, perhaps, the smartest words ever said, ever. "I suppose we would hope that they were on our side."

***

After Harry and his friends left, Quatre turned to Heero. He was still asleep. They went to bed after Quatre found his little brother crying what seemed to be his heart out over Duo. Quatre worked his magic—tears were such wonderful things—and made Heero forget all about it. Quatre's brother would not be sad over a human, not if he could help it. Because of that—and because Heero hadn't been sleeping—they went to bed. They skipped dinner and Astronomy.

It was a good thing they did, too. Otherwise, Quatre never would've heard what Harry said. Heero wouldn't tell him, if what Harry said was to be believed. He wouldn't remember. That could mena only one thing, as far as Quatre knew. Heero was fighting his visions. Heero was always right when it came to what he Saw, so Quatre didn't worry about that.

What worried Quatre was that Heero was trying to fight his magic again. Heero always did that. For fifteen years, he didn't have any, so he wasn't used to it. Sometimes, he even forgot he had it. There were several times in Heero's treatment where he would let his magic build up so much that it would let itself out. Usually in a very Duoesque explosion. One time, he dissolved Dorothy's epidermis. It took a week to grow back, with Heero helping. That was the only good thing about Heero's obsession with Duo—he would willingly play with his Gift.

"No," Heero said. He fought at Quatre when he tried to hold him down. He was in the grips of another nightmare. "Don't put me in the box!"

Quatre felt guilty, but he couldn't _just_ comfort Heero this time. This particular nightmare occurred too frequently to be only a nightmare. Quatre wanted—needed—to know what the box thing was about. Knowing it was a bad thing, that he was violating his brother's privacy, Quatre took a deep breath, held onto Heero, and willed the vision to come. He was immediately thrust into the past. Heero's past.

***

_He was twelve years old. Quatre knew this instincively. Just like he knew the names of all the people standing around him. They were mostly his age, all wearing the same spandex and tank top. It was for maneuverability and to get them used to the cold. A few were older than him. His father was there—and Dr. J._

_It was the weekly meeting. One they had every week. The Omegas—that was what the group was called—would stand there for hours, stock still, until J deigned to show up. When J came, ,he would put them through a series of tests. He usually took Heero in the back room to test him for magical abilities. If every Omega passed every test, they would get unlimited food for the week. If anybody failed, they got enough food for one person to survive the week. They usually failed, and it was always Heero's fault. So he didn't mind too much about what happened after._

_This time was different. There was never anybody in the room but the Omegas for this meeting. Heero's father was there, though. Heero knew that Beta-6 was his father because once he'd spit in Heero's face. Heero wondered what kind of test they were going through that needed an extra person. Maybe they were getting something good. After all, last week, they defeated the Thetas. Heero had been essential in that mission._

_Heero didn't have to wait long to find out what his father—Heero Yuy the Second—was doing there. Just a few minutes after he came in, Dr. J stepped between the two rows of Omegas._

_"I understand that several of you have a request," J said. This was news to Heero. He didn't even know they had the power to make requests. Except for Daemon. He was group leader._

_Daemon stepped forward. He saluted J and waited to be recognized._

_"Ah, yes," J said. "Omega-1, what is your request?"_

_Daemon looked straight ahead. He did not blink. "Weakness is failure and failure is death. Please, cut from us our weakness, Dr. J, so that we may live for you."_

_Heero watched with dawning horror. He knew why Beta-6 was there. He, Heero, was the weakness. His father would choose how he was cut from the unit. The were a few times this happened before, but Heero never thought it would happen to him. Especially after he just saved the lives of his entire unit. _

_"What is your weakness?" J asked, following all the proper procedures._

_"Omega-12," Daemon answered. He pointed Heero as the rest of the Omegas echoed him._

_"Very well," J said. He turned to Heero's father. "As the parent of this wilted weapon, you must choose with how it will be dealt. You have three choices: it can be killed, it can be contained, or it can be reconditioned."_

Please, not the Box_, Heero thought. He was reconditioned once and vowed never to go through that torture again. _If I can't help my unit, just kill me.

_"Recondition," Beta-6 said._

_Heero let out a scream that could be heard throughout the base. Arms grabbed him and carried him to the Reconditioning Room. He screamed the entire time._

_"NOT THE BOX!" Heero screamed, over and over. His voice grew hoarse, his throat raw and sore. Still, he kicked and screamed. "Don't put me in the Box! Just kill me! KILL ME!"_

_Heero could hear the Box being opened, and he screamed louder, kicked harder. He even bit a couple of people. They threw him in. It was as cold as he remembered. An unpenitrable cold. Colder than mere water cold ever hope to be. Because it wasn't water. They strapped him in and shut the door. _

_The It started. The images. They didn't stop._

***

Quatre jerked away from Heero. He ran to the bathroom. He threw up long before he got there.

Selune


	9. The Date

Disclaimer: I do not own any things Harry Potter—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to the wonderful J. K. Rowling and whomever else she decides. I do not own anything Gundam Wing—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to (I think) Bandai and Sunrise.

Spoilers: This fic contains spoilers for books 1-5 of Harry Potter and all of the episodes of Gundam Wing. This fic does not include Endless Waltz.

Rating: R

Pairings: Neville/Harry, 2x1

Summary: Two years ago, the One Year War ended. At this time, the five heroes—the Gundam pilots—disappeared from the Muggle world. Three of them—pilots 02, 03, and 05—reappeared shortly after in the Wizarding world, as students at Hogwarts School of Witchraft and Wizardry. Now, twenty months after the fact, Heero Yuy and Quatre Winner are coming to Hogwarts, and they're bringing all of their secrets with them. The world—especially one Harry Potter—will never be the same.

Peace, Love, and Family: 

The Story of the Vanuli Three

Chapter 8: The Date

It was Saturday. A short thirty minutes before Harry was supposed to meet Neville for their date. He was getting ready in the Prefect's bathroom. Ron had told him the password—and had proceeded to follow Harry in. The entire time Harry was getting ready, Ron kept telling him he could back out of the date any time he wanted. And that if Neville tried to get Harry to do anything he didn't want to do, all Harry had to do was tell Ron. He would take care of it. Normally, Harry would've been close to snapping at Ron. Today, though, he was too nervous to even _listen _to his friend with more than half an ear. Harry couldn't even _begin_ to get mad at him.

Somebody vomited in the hall last night. Harry saw it this morning before breakfast. It was cleaned up by the time breakfast was over. Harry's stomach felt like he imagined that guy's did. He had only gone on one date in his entire life, with his longtime crush, Cho Chang. It was an undeniable disaster. Harry hoped his date with Neville was better than that one.

And maybe it would be if Ron would just butt out! After Ron said one entirely untrue, insulting thing about Neville involving Canary Creams and dung beetles, Harry turned to his best friend. "Ron," Harry said, slowly, calmly, "you know I love you, right?" Ron nodded. "Okay. And since you've known me for over _six years,_ I think, by now, you know that I can take care of myself. And if I can't, I promise to come to you. Now, tell me if I look okay. Is my hair too messy?"

Ron sighed but did as Harry asked. He looked Harry up and down. He had him turn in a circle. Finally, he gave Harry the okay. "You look great, mate," Ron said. Harry got the feeling that Ron wasn't too happy about that. And, of course, he had to add, "If Neville doesn't want you, there's always this certain brother of mine who'd love to date you."

This time, Harry just laughed as he walked out the door. He walked to the Gryffindor Common Room, butterflies coming to next in his stomach. He tried to dispel his nerves by telling himself that it was only Neville. The guy he'd been friends with almost as long as Ron. The guy whose Remembrall he had rescued in first year. The guy who always messed up his potions, shared Harry's birthday, and followed him (along with several others) to the Department of Mysteries. The guy with whom he spent most of yesterday in a major snogging session.

That last was what had Harry really worried. What if they didn't like each other for the non-physical stuff? What if they weren't compatible, emotionally? Could their friendship survive a failed relationship? With Cho, Harry really didn't have to worry about that. They weren't really good friends to begin with, and by the time it ended, Harry had other stuff to deal with.

But Harry really didn't have time to be nervous anymore. Neville was in sight, and Harry didn't want to look worried, didn't want Neville to think he wasn't happy. He tried to put a smile on his face. It got there, but Harry was sure a couple of butterflies escaped while it was getting.

Neville was standing next to Dean and Seamus. Apparently, they helped him get ready—Harry really couldn't see a difference in his appearance. Neville was wringing his hands and looking around. Harry looked at his watch. He was late again. Harry didn't even know why he wore his watch. He never used it until he was late. Knowing he was late, Harry gave himself one last check. He felt fine, so he took a deep breath and walked over to Neville.

"Hi," Harry said when he was standing next to Neville. He was proud of himself—his voice was much more steady and calm than he felt. "Sorry I'm late." He gave Neville a weak smile.

"It's all right," Neville said, returning Harry's smile. There was sweat on his upper lip. Neville reached for Harry's hand. It was sweaty when Harry took it. It eased Harry's nerves slightly, that Neville was flustered, too. "You ready?"

Harry definitely was ready. He thought, maybe, if they got out from under the watchful eyes of their friends, he and Neville would be fine. The nervousness would dissipate. After all, they were perfectly okay with each other yesterday. Of course, yesterday, they weren't exactly on a date.

They went to the Entrance Hall to sign out. Since they were seventh years—and legal adults in the Wizarding world—they were allowed to leave without Filch, as long as they were in groups of two or more. As Harry signed out, he felt eyes on him. Eyes of the creepy sort. Harry looked up, and the feeling was explained. Malfoy was standing behind him, peering down at the parchment.

"You leaving with your boyfriend, Potter?" Malfoy sneered. He turned his beady eyes on Harry.

Harry smiled at him—a big, shit-eating grin, known to thoroughly piss off Malfoy—as his hand crept back into Neville's. "Maybe," he said. "Why? You jealous? Want me all to yourself, do you, Malfoy?" Harry turned away, knowing it would get Malfoy all riled up. After six years of rivalry, Harry knew all of Malfoy's buttons.

The Wizarding world was much more accepting of gay and lesbian relationship than the Muggle world was. Harry guessed that, with giants and centaurs and humans and all other types of creatures intermarrying, a guy with a guy really didn't look too bad.

"Well, Potter," Malfoy spat. Literally. Harry wiped the spittle from his cheek. "Just know that I'll be watching you and your little—I mean big—friend. One would think the Boy-Who-Lived could do better than a fat clutz."

Harry barely restrained himself from pounding Malfoy's head on the floor. That was exactly the type of reaction Malfoy wanted. Instead, Harry took a deep breath. He clawed Neville's hand the entire time, but Malfoy couldn't see that. If Malfoy couldn't see it, it didn't happen.

"Malfoy, how could I do better?" Harry asked sweetly, innocently. "You, maybe? One of your entourage? Your "friends" that aren't even here to back up their esteemed leader? Are any of them really better than Neville? After all, you're the best of your group, right? It's not like Crabbe or Goyle or any of the rest are going to be anyone in the brains department, not even you. Well, as I told Neville in first year, he's worth twelve of you. And I dare say he's only gotten more valuable as the years went by, whereas you... Well, I won't get into _that _right now. I don't have the time to list all your faults—I have a date."

Harry grabbed Neville and shoved past Malfoy before he could say anything back. They got outside, and Harry started laughing. He skipped beside Neville. It was always so much fun insulting Malfoy

"That was great," Harry said. Temporarily, the all-encompassing nervousness went away. He felt light and free, like a bird just let out of its cage. 

His gut promptly crash-landed when Neville tugged on his hand. For a minute there, Harry had forgotten that they were on a date—it was like before, when they were just friends, before Harry's crush developed. He was sharply reminded that he and Neville were more than friends, maybe much more, when he looked at their intertwined hands. Friends did not hold hands. The butterflies came back with a vengeance.

"So, uh, where do you want to go?" Neville asked. Harry was relieved to hear the hesitant tone of Neville's voice. It was oddly comforting to know that he was nervous, too.

Harry didn't know how to answer the question. He didn't know what wizards did on dates. He knew what Muggles usually did—dinner and a movie. Harry supposed they could eat. Wizards didn't have movies, though. At least, Harry didn't know about Wizard films.

"Three Broomsticks?" Harry finally suggested. He didn't really want to go there—that's where everyone would be. He didn't want a lot of people staring at them on their first date. But there was no way he was stepping foot in Madam Puddifoot's. It was an acceptable date spot. Much better than The Hog's Head, anyway. You never knew who was in there.

Neville scrunched up his face. "Well, okay," he said, "but where do you want to go after? I think Madam White's would be a good place."

"What does she sell?" Harry said. There was no Madam White's in Hogsmeade, not that he'd heard of. "Why don't I know about her place?"

"Well," Neville said, talking with his hands. He must be really excited about whatever Madam White did. Harry hoped it didn't involve plants—Neville loved them, but Harry was miserable at Herbology. "The reason you haven't heard of Madam White's is that it just came to Hogsmeade this summer. There was this huge uproar from parents. They were actually complaining about her product. Gran was one of them. She said it would, and I quote, "distort you children's minds"."

Harry was interested. He, like every other red-blooded teenager, liked to rebel from parents. But his parents were dead, as was his godfather. Harry pushed the unhappy thoughts out of his mind before they had a chance to take root. Nevertheless, Harry wanted to know what this Madam White sold. He asked Neville.

"_Complecti Sigilla_," Neville said.

No more explanation seemed to be forthcoming, so Harry decided to ask for one. "What's _Complecti Sigilla_?" he said, proud that—after six years—he said the Latin words perfectly the first time he tried.

Neville scrunched up his eyebrows in the cutest way. "You don't know what _Complecti Sigilla_ is?" he asked. Harry shook his head. "I'm not really sure how to explain it. I've never had to before."

Harry smiled. Neville was just so cute when he was at a loss for words. Or any other time. "It's all right," Harry said. He led Neville to a bench in front of the Three Broomsticks. "Take your time. I'm sure you'll tell me exactly what I need to know."

Neville took a deep breath and smiled at Harry. For a second, Harry had to fight the urge to tackle Neville. He looked so kissable when he smiled. Shaggable, really, but neither Harry nor their relationship was ready for that.

"Okay," Neville said after he gathered his thoughts. "What happens is this. A _Complecti Sigilla _looks kind of like a blue Quaffle. It's slippery, a little slimey. You have to tap the _Complecti Sigilla _with your wand for it to work and say the name of the title. You have to pick out a title before you can rent it—they're really expensive to make, so you can usually only rent one, not buy it. After you've activated it, everyone in the room with it sort of gets _sucked _into it. The _Complecti Sigilla _picks a character for you to be, and you become that person for the entire time you're in it. It's great—you look like the character and everything. When it's over with, you get, well, you get spit out of it. Then it's over." 

Harry thought about that a moment. "It's basically the Wizard equivalent of a movie," Harry said. He laughed when he thought about them going on traditional "dinner and a movie" date. "I like it. Let's go." Harry sprinted into the Three Broomsticks, Neville chasing after him.

"What's a movie?" Neville asked when he caught up with him.

"Muggle thing," Harry said. "It's like a picture, only it has a story. Sort of like this _Complecti Sigilla_, but nowhere near as good."

***

Quatre sighed as Heero ran from the trail. All day, Heero had been hyper and wild—like a little child hopped up on sugar. Quatre thought, maybe, going to Hogsmeade would calm him down, but Heero wasn't cooperating. He was, in fact, doing the opposite of cooperating and going in a direction that certainly did not lead to Hogsmeade. Quatre groaned in frustration as Heero entered the Forbidden Forest. 

"You're not supposed to go in there!" Quatre shouted, cupping his hands around his mouth in a mock-megaphone. Heero did not heed the rules and continued to go further and further in. Quatre ran to catch up with his brother. He hated how energetic Heero was in the week before the full moon. Quatre could never keep up with him.

"Oh, no," Quatre said when he saw Heero. He was stripping. They were far into the Forbidden Forest, so there was no worry about anyone seeing Heero in his birthday suit. Vanuli had no compunctions about nudity, anyway. What Quatre objected to was what Heero would do while naked.

"Oh, yes," Heero said, taking off the last of his clothes. The only thing he wore was an anklet made from the remains of his wards. He always wore it, ever since the they were lifted. Heero did a little dance, causing the anklet to jingle prettily. He left his clothes in a pile.

Then, as Quatre dreaded/predicted/did not want, Heero began to climb a tree. Yes, Heero Yuy, former pilot of the Gundam Wing, all-around bad ass terrorist, climbed a tree. Naked. He was quite proficient at it. He should be, as he did it before every full moon. At least it wasn't yet time for the _other _thing Heero did before every full moon.

Quatre gathered Heero's clothes and sat on the ground to watch what Heero would become this time. It was damp, still wet from the morning dew, even though it was early afternoon. His robe was getting muddy, but Quatre was fine with it. The mud would come out, the robe would get clean.

Heero reached the topmost limb that would hold his weight. He looked down at Quatre and waved at him. "Come on up!" Heero offered as he did every month.

"No, thank you!" Quatre yelled back, as he did every month. He was no good at Transfigurations, especially on himself. He preferred to _not _be turned into some freaky looking something or other. Give him a potion any day of the week. But it was still fascinating—however nerve-wracking—to see what beautiful creature Heero would become.

Quatre didn't have long to wait. He never did; Heero was always quick to change. Heero took a deep breath and jumped. Then there was nothing—it was like he disappeared. Quatre quickly rose to his feet, looking for his brother. It was difficult because he wasn't sure what creature Heero became.

A butterfly flitted in front of his eyes. One with quite distinctive colorings, including a jagged stripe of dark blue running over both wings. A silver ring went around the bottom of the left wing. Heero. He _would _be the only asymmetric butterfly in existence.

Quatre reached out to grab Heero, but he flew away. Quatre chased after him. He loved it when they played like this. That was one of the reasons he didn't fly with Heero; the other, of course, was that he wasn't good at Transfigurations. He liked being able to run around and chase butterflies (or birds or beetles or amphisbaena) like he should have done as a child.

Quatre dropped Heero's clothes by a stream. He put Heero's wand in his pocket, with his own wand. He would remember about where the clothes were and be able to find them later. If he couldn't, it really wasn't a big deal—either Heero could fly back to Hogwarts as a butterfly or he could turn back into human form and wear Quatre's robe. Quatre was wearing clothes underneath, so neither of them would offend their classmates' delicate sensibilities.

Heero flew away as Quatre was memorizing the terrain.

"Hey, no fair!" Quatre shouted and took off after him.

They ran and flew, flew and ran, for hours. They got deeper and deeper into the forest and farther and farther from safety. It was dark where they were—the trees blocked out most o the sun. Quatre stopped and told Heero to become human again.

"What's wrong?" Heero asked when he could speak. He looked around, trying to sense danger.

"I think we should go back," Quatre said. It was too quiet in this part of the forest. It was creepy, and Quatre didn't like it. "We've come in too deep. We need to go back."

"Okay," Heero agreed. He slipped, his hand in Quatre's. Quatre wasn't exactly sure how to get back, but he knew he'd figure it out. First, though, he made Heero put on his robe and gave Heero his wand back. Vanuli didn't need wands to do magic, but it certainly gave them the advantage against species who _did _need to use wands.

It was a good thing he did because, as soon as the wand touched Heero's hand, centaurs surrounded them. There was an entire tribe—at least fourty. They were to the front of Quatre and Heero, to the left of them, the front, the back. Quatre let go of Heero's hand. They had a better chance of survival if their hands were unencumbered. The centaurs advanced, and Quatre steeled himself to start throwing hexes. Quatre looked to Heero, to make sure he was all right, but he appeared unconcerned about the new happenings.

"Dona Maya," Heero said, calmly and with self-assurance. 

Quatre didn't know what he was doing, but he decided to follow Heero's lead. He stood up straight and echoed Heero. "Dona Maya."

The centaurs stopped, confused. Several young centaurs whispered to an older one. Quatre decided he was the leader and would treat him as such until told otherwise. In other words, as soon as Heero was threatened, that one was going to die.

The white-haired centaur turned to Heero and Quatre, and the others backed off. "Dona Maya," he said with a smile on his face. "We welcome you who have wished upon my family a long life and much happiness. Come to our village, and we shall break bread."

Quatre looked to Heero. Neither of them knew much of the centaurs, but Heero knew the most about politeness in the non-human world. Heero nodded, so they went.

Selune


	10. The Panther Lily

Disclaimer: I do not own any things Harry Potter—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to the wonderful J. K. Rowling and whomever else she decides. I do not own anything Gundam Wing—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to (I think) Bandai and Sunrise.

Spoilers: This fic contains spoilers for books 1-5 of Harry Potter and all of the episodes of Gundam Wing. This fic does not include Endless Waltz.

Rating: R

Pairings: Neville/Harry, 2x1

Summary: Two years ago, the One Year War ended. At this time, the five heroes—the Gundam pilots—disappeared from the Muggle world. Three of them—pilots 02, 03, and 05—reappeared shortly after in the Wizarding world, as students at Hogwarts School of Witchraft and Wizardry. Now, twenty months after the fact, Heero Yuy and Quatre Winner are coming to Hogwarts, and they're bringing all of their secrets with them. The world—especially one Harry Potter—will never be the same.

Peace, Love, and Family: 

The Story of the Vanuli Three

Chapter 9: The Panther Lily

Harry's date went great! His and Neville's lunch was fantastic. There were no awkward silences and no feeling of wanting to be elsewhere. The butterflies in Harry's stomach danced less and less as the day wore on. There was one uncomfortable moment at lunch, when the check came. Tradition stated that the guy paid, but they were both guys. Neither wanted to seem unmanly and allow the other to pay. In the end, Harry paid because he was the one who initiated the date. Harry explained to Neville that that was the way many Muggles did it in the modern world. At least, according to the advice columnists Aunt Petunia read, that was how they did it. Neville agreed—as long as he paid for the _Complecti Sigilla_.

Which was awesome. It was unlike anything Harry had ever experienced. The only thing Harry could liken it to was Virtual Reality. Harry had played one of Dudley's V.R. games once. It was top of the line, the very best, most believable model available. It was nothing compared to _Complecti Sigilla_.

It all happened just like Neville described. Neville picked the title, as he had more experience with the _Complecti Sigilla_ than Harry did. He picked something called _Warriors of Alteron_. It was all about these armies—one side completely male, the other completely female—fighting over breeding rights. The main characters were the leaders of each army—the Dagodites and the Acroulas—Armond and Tanzania, respectively. At first, Harry was miffed about being Tanzania (he didn't choose his character, the _Complecti Sigilla _did), but after he found out what an ass-kicking Amazon she was, he was okay with it. Still, it was weird seeing himself as a girl—especially in a dress. By the time it was finished, the Acroulas won. Neville, who played Armond, was a little upset. A well-timed kiss from Harry cheered him up considerably.

Now, their date was over, and Harry wanted to tell somebody about it. Ron and Hermione were still in Hogsmeade, so he couldn't tell them. Dean and Seamus were nowhere to be found. Neither were Quatre and Heero. Harry didn't really know them that well, but they seemed like the type to listen, even if they were a little weird. Understandably, Harry couldn't tell Neville about his date with him. That would be odd.

_Hagrid!_ He wasn't supervising the students at Hogsmeade this weekend. Snape and Flitwick were doing that. He would probably be home, and Harry could go talk to him. Plus, Harry hadn't seen Hagrid privately in such a long time, and Hagrid always did like Harry's company.

Harry took off for Hagrid's hut. This was going to be fun—as long as Hagrid didn't offer him anything to eat. Harry didn't think he could handle _that_.

Harry could see Hagrid's hut in the distance now. The light's were off, and Fang—Hagrid's dog—was nowhere to be seen. Fang was always around when Hagrid was home. Harry couldn't count the number of times that he was coming to see Hagrid, only to be knocked down by the bloodhound. If Fang wasn't there, Hagrid probably wasn't either. Harry sighed inwardly, his spirits deflating a little bit. He really wanted to see Hagrid. Not just as someone to unload to, but as a friend. Now that Harry thought about it, he missed Hagrid.

Harry decided he would go to the hut anyway. Hagrid _could _be in there. He might have just brought Fang inside. Harry would never know unless he tried. Harry knocked on the door. Nothing happened. Not a creak, squeak, or groan to show that there was anyone inside. Harry peeked through the window. Not a soul in sight.

Harry sighed. _I guess I'll come back later_, he thought. _I'll just try to find someone else until then. Maybe Luna'll listen. After all, it was through her meddling that this happened._

Harry turned to go back to the castle when a scream tore through the air. It was a horrible scream, the scream of a little girl afraid for her very life. It was coming from the Forbidden Forest. Without a second thought, Harry ran in the direction of the scream, wand at the ready.

***

Heero leaped up—again—when he heard the scream for a second time. The centaur leader, Bramtac, explained to Heero and Quatre the first time they heard it that it was a Panther Lily. It was a carnivorous plant that used a child's scream to lure unsuspecting humans into its grip. Heero understood this, but still, the scream was uncanny. Heero had a hard time making himself believe that it was a plant, not a child.

Heero and Quatre were in the centaur village. It was deep within the heart of the Forbidden Forest. It looked much like a village he had seen only once in real life, but many times in his dreams—the village of the clan LeFey. The houses were few in number but very large. They seemed to grow up from the ground, as if they were plants that had taken root. The roofs sprouted leaves, making it so the houses blended in with the rest of the forest.

Heero, Quatre, and many of the centaurs were in the center of the village, surrounding a large cooking pot. Heero watched, mesmerized, as one of the older females stirred the pot. Heero didn't know what was cooking, but whatever it was, it smelled delicious. As his stomach growled, Heero was reminded fiercely that he hadn't had lunch. At the time, food hadn't seemed so important—he'd been having too much fun. Now, it was definitely important.

So intent was he on the food, Heero didn't notice a young centaur settle beside him until he shook Heero's shoulder. Startled, Heero turned to face the young male. He was gorgeous. His hair was long and flowing, golden blonde in color. He lay beside Heero on the ground, his legs bent like a horse. He looked at Heero with something akin to wonder.

"What are you?" the young centaur asked. "Not to be rude or anything, but you smell different from any human I've ever met—not that I've met many, mind you. And you greeted my father with a Vanuli saying. Are you Vanuli?"

"Yes," Heero replied after a moment's deliberation. Surely, this creature would not know much about Vanuli, especially about Heero or his brothers. Vanuli were usually select in who knew any important information about them. Heero had never heard of a centaur being privy to Vanuli family secrets. _Besides, it would be nice if **someone**_ _knew who I really am—someone in no way connected to me—even if they don't understand my importance. Especially if they don't understand my importance. _"My birth name is Imela LeFey, but I go by Heero Yuy. You can call me Heero." Heero shook the young centaur's hand. He shuddered as Heero allowed some of his magic to flow through their hands.

"I am Zetoth," the centaur said, "and I am honored to meet one of the heirs of the LeFey, the future king of the Vanuli people."

"You know who I am?" Heero asked, confused. No one except the other Vanuli was supposed to know who Imela LeFey was, especially such a _low_ being. Dr. J didn't even know Heero's birth name. There should have been no risk in telling Zetoth. No one was supposed to know who they were!

"Our entire tribe knows who you and your brothers are. We are good friends with the LeFey clan. We were much saddened at your disappearance over seventeen years ago," Zetoth said. He pointed to Quatre, who was on the other side of the cooking pot, talking to several children. "I suppose that he is either Malal or Nelat. Or is he the Naiyama?"

"If you are such friends with the LeFey, then you should know that Naiyamas are always female. He is my brother, the First. He goes by the name Quatre Winner," Heero said calmly, even through his rising distress. _No one _was supposed to know! Heero had to impress upon Zetoth the importance of keeping their identities a secret. Heero took Zetoth's head in his hands, making it so the centaur had to look into his eyes. "You can tell no one, Zetoth. No one must know. We are only lowly middle-class Vanuli. We are not two of the Three. Our names are Heero and Quatre. Nothing else." Heero used his hands on Zetoth to anchor his message into the centaur's mind. If Heero did it right, Zetoth would only remember that.

"Of course you're name's Heero," Zetoth said, gazing at Heero as though he were the most important thing in the world. He took Heero's hands in his own. "And what a lovely name it is." He lowered his head to Heero's hands and kissed them, three times to the right hand, four to the left. Gentlemanly. As a centaur did to the one he was intending to court. 

Heero jerked his hands away from Zetoth with such vigor that it sent the centaur tumbling forward. Heero ran away, not looking back at the handsome centaur. He would be courted by none but Duo. Even though Duo was not in the courting mood.

"Did I do it wrong?" Zetoth cried out after Heero. Heero didn't answer.

Quatre—who was close by—looked at Heero with questioning eyes. He didn't ask now, but Heero knew he would later. For the moment, though, he just followed Heero from the village, calling out his goodbyes.

Quatre's show of good manners was interrupted as another scream whisked through the air. It was of lower pitch than the previous screams, wholely masculine in timbre. Heero knew, without a shadow of a doubt, that it was Harry. A quick look at Quatre confirmed that he knew it, too.

Without a word, Heero tore off Quatre's robe and handed it to him. He transformed into a bird and flew in the direction of the scream. He knew Quatre would follow on foot.

***

Harry cursed his brave nature as he tried to curse the _thing _in which he was currently entrapped. If only he had gone to get help instead of going after the "little girl" on his own, he would not be in this mess. But no, Harry had to be the perfect Gryffindor and bravely rush in where even loyal Hufflepuffs feared to tread. and this plant just wouldn't take any damage! No matter what spell, curse, or charm Harry sent at it, it continued to bring him closer. Closer to the large, black cat in the middle of the vines. 

The big kitty licked its mouth as the vines pulled Harry closer. He kicked, pushed, pulled, all to no avail. He couldn't break free, and it wasn't letting go. In one last desperate attempt to stay alive, Harry reared back his head and screamed as loud as he possibly could. He could only hope that someone would hear it and come to help him. He certainly couldn't help himself, not staring down the throat of that massive black cat nestled in a bed of vines, the plant that wasn't a plant. Neville would know exactly what it was. So would Hermione.

The thought of his friends gave Harry back his will. He wouldn't give up. He wouldn't! He was Harry Potter, Goddamnit! He was not going to be eaten by a vegetable! With renewed vigor, Harry fought against the plant. 

Harry didn't have to fight alone. Not for long, anyway. Mere seconds after screaming, a large bird—a toucan, Harry believed, and if he had the time, he would have wondered what a tropical bird was doing in the middle of Great Britain—swooped down from the forest top. It attacked the vines that held Harry, snapping at them with its large beak. Harry watched, amazed, as the bird cut apart every vine holding Harry, as if the vines were no thicker than a sheet of parchment. His amazement quickly turned to horror as a vine came up behind the bird, ready to attack.

"Heero, look out!" Harry screamed, not noticing what he said, knowing only that the bird could not be allowed to die. He was to be kept alive at all costs. He was important.

Harry gasped as the bird turned to face the attacking vine. He had a large blot running down the feathers of his back, red in color, almost like a scar. He was quickly losing feathers, but the scar stayed. Harry went wide eyed as the toucan became something that was decidedly not a bird—a very naked Heero Yuy. Heero looked back at Harry, tears filling his eyes.

A soft _swoosh_ was all that could be heard as Heero grasped the vine. It withered in his hand. Heero dropped the vine, and touched Harry. Everything went dark.

***

When Harry came to, it was to a very familiar place. The cold bed, the smell of sickness, the worried Hermione Granger sitting in the uncomfortable chair beside him. There was no doubt about it, he was in the infirmary. Only two weeks into school, and he was already laid up—that beat his old record by at least week and a half. Harry tried to sit up, but a sharp pain from his lower back stopped that.

"Ohh," he groaned, his hand automatically going back to feel the damage. There was a large bandage there.

Hermione must have noticed him do that because she was instantly at his side. "Oh we've been so worried, Harry," she said. She moved to the side, and Harry could see who the rest of "we" were. Ron and Neville. "Harry, what happened? Why did you go into the Forbidden Forest?"

"And why didn't you take us with you?" Ron asked, coming closer to Harry's bed. "We could have helped you with whatever trouble you obviously got into."

"Heero! How's Heero?" Harry asked. He realized that it was the exact wrong thing to say as soon as he said it. Neville—and Ron and Hermione—might get the wrong idea. Nevertheless, Heero saved his life; Harry had to know if he was okay.

"Why do you ask?" Ron said. Neville scowled and turned away slightly.

"He saved my life," Harry said. Didn't Harry's friends know that? Wouldn't they have seen Heero bring Harry back? 

"No, he didn't," Neville said. His hands clenched at his sides. "A centaur brought you back. He told us you were attacked by something, he didn't say what, and he found you passed out on the forest floor."

"Yes, he _did _save me," Harry insisted. He knew Heero saved him. He knew it!

"Harry," Hermione said, touching his uninjured arm—the other one had been broken in the struggle. She sat down on his bed. "Why don't you tell us exactly what happened?"

Harry had to think. What exactly _did _happen? He remembered going to see Hagrid. The scream. Running after it. The plant-that-wasn't-really-a-plant. It tried to eat him. A bird saved him. The bird was Heero. Harry passed out. When he came to, Quatre was leaning over him. He pulled him out of the plant. And Heero. He lay on the ground, unmoving, like a corpse. It made Harry hurt. He ached to cure Heero and comfort Quatre, who tended to Harry's wounds with tears in his eyes. A centaur—a young one with long, blonde hair—came up to Quatre. They spoke (Harry couldn't make heads or tails of their words), and the centaur scooped up Harry. He must have passed out then, for he didn't remember anything else until the infirmary.

"A plant," Harry said. "There was a plant with a big cat in the middle. I'm not sure what it was, but it was black. Someone saved me. I thought it was Heero, was so _sure _that it was him, but maybe it wasn't. After all, why would he help me and then leave me to die in the middle of the forest, right? So I guess I just imagined that. I don't really remember anything else." Harry shook his head, partially to emphasize his helplessness in the matter, but mostly to hide his face. He couldn't believe that he was lying to his friends, even if it was such a small lie. But as much as he hated it, Harry knew he couldn't let them know about Quatre and Heero. When he thought of them, he felt something he never felt before. If felt like home. Harry wasn't sure why that was, but he was determined to find out. Tonight, if possible.

"Well, all right. If that's all you can remember, we won't pressure you," Hermione said. Harry knew she didn't believe him. He was a horrible liar—that was one of the reasons he didn't do it much. Harry wished he could tell them about Heero and Quatre. Or at the very least, think of a better lie. _I guess I imagined it, wait, I can't remember. _Ugh. Harry hoped that Hermione would just let it drop. He knew that, eventually, she would want to know what he was keeping from them. She looked back to Harry, and he pleaded with his eyes for her not to ask. She nodded. She would forget it—for now.

Both Harry and Hermione were saved from having to lie or withhold any more information from their friends by Madam Pomfrey. She bustled into Harry's little curtained cubicle, clipboard and quill at the ready.

"How's my favorite repeat patient?" Madam Pomfrey asked. Over the years, Harry had become close to Poppy (only to be called that in private, of course; in public, she was Madam Pompfrey). She was something like a favored aunt to him. They were almost as close as he and Remus, but not quite.

"I just missed you so much, Madam Pomfrey, that I decided I should come visit you. This was the only way I figured I could get and keep your attention," Harry joked. He knew she wouldn't take offense.

"Oh," Poppy said, putting her quill behind her ear. "Then perhaps all of the other visitors should leave. We wouldn't want all of your trouble to have been for naught, would we?"

Ron, Hermione, and Neville wisely took that as a subtle hint that their time was up. They left quietly, so as not to encounter her wrath.

Poppy sat down in the seat recently vacated by Hermione. She looked at Harry critically. "You had numerous cuts and contusions upon arrival to the infirmary," she said, beginning her rundown. Harry told her back in sixth year that he always wanted to know exactly what was wrong with him. Since then, she always told him. "Your right arm was fractured in three places, and a large chunk of flesh was taken out of your back and a smaller chunk out of your neck. There were bite marks consistent with that of a large feline. You are mostly healed, and can leave as soon as your arm is fixed. It shouldn't be long now." 

Harry sighed in relief. As much as he liked Poppy, he still hated being in the infirmary. He was glad he would get out soon.

"However," Poppy said, stopping Harry in his thoughts. "However" was never a good word. "There was an anomaly. The bite mark in your neck, while not extraordinarily large, was nonetheless quite severe. Whatever it was that attacked you managed to tear your carotid artery. I have repaired the damage that occurred, but I shouldn't have been able to. You should have bled to death before you arrived at the Entrance Hall. But—it's such a thing—when I looked at the cut, there was very little blood. It was like you just _stopped bleeding_."

Harry stared at Poppy. Did Quatre do that? Or did he?

***

Quatre tended to Heero's wounds. He knew that his brother could fix them himself, but he wanted to do it. It gave him something to do until either Heero or Harry regained consciousness. Quatre had to stop as his emotions overwhelmed him. He almost lost both his brothers today. Quatre pulled Heero into his arms and cried. He hoped that some of his tears would help to heal his little brother.

Quatre cursed his inability to transfigure himself. If he could have overcome his fear of it, he would have gotten there sooner. Maybe Heero and Harry wouldn't be hurt as bad. As it was, Quatre got there just after Heero disabled the Panther Lily.

While the plant was out of commission, Quatre had dragged both of his brothers off the plant, away from its reach. He set to work, trying to save Harry. He had been in the grip of the Panther Lily the longest, and he didn't have Heero's Gift. Quatre knew Harry would need the most help. As it turned out, however, Harry didn't need to be saved again. His blood started clotting almost as soon as he was away from the Panther Lily. It didn't take long for Quatre to figure out what was happening—Harry had the Gift of Blood. His magic was saving him, even as he lay dying. Quatre, knowing he could do no more for Harry, had given him over to Zetoth (who had followed Heero to the danger like a puppy dog) with instructions to take him back to Hogwarts.

Then he had turned to Heero, only to discover something he had hoped never to see again. He was covered in blood. His scar—his damnable, blasted scar—had broken. Heero could not heal it, for it was a magic scar, a death scar. The most Heero had ever been able to do was scab it over. And that was only when he was awake at full power. He had drained himself too much to be able to even grow a new skin, if Quatre could get him to wake up.

So Quatre had done what he did every time his darling baby brother was hurt: he had cried. Quatre had buried his face into Heero's back, mindless of the blood, and sobbed with all the magic, all the emotion, that he could muster. He had held Heero's body off the ground. He'd been able to feel his tears coming out the other side of the old wound. 

When Quatre hadn't been able to feel his tears dripping from Heero's chest any longer, he'd stopped crying. The scar had successfully scabbed over, but Heero had lost so much blood. Quatre had wished then—as he did now—that he could kill the one responsible for that wound. Unfortunately, even Quatre Raberba Winner could only kill someone once, and that particular someone was long dead. Quatre had then wrapped Heero in his robe and carried him back to the dorm. Thankfully, nobody had seen them.

Now, Quatre and Heero were on Quatre's bed. Heero was cleaned of the blood, and his wounds were tended. All that was left for Quatre to do was wait for Heero to wake up. Which he promptly did.

Heero opened first one eye, then the other. He gave a small smile when he saw who was holding him. "Is he okay?" Heero asked, grasping onto Quatre's forearms. "Did I get there in time?"

Quatre smiled back at Heero. His beautiful baby brother, who always thought so much of others and so little of himself. Quatre wondered if he knew how much he meant to him, how much he meant to all who knew him. Quatre placed his fingers over Heero's lips, to feel the gentle inhales and exhales of Heero's breath. It helped proved to him that Heero was still alive.

"Yeah," Quatre said through a choked voice. "You saved him. The Panther Lily was about to eat him, I think." Quatre ran his fingers from Heero's lips, down his throat, straight to his chest. Quatre could feel the scar just above the heart, but it kept on beating, same as always. More proof that Heero was alive. That he was okay. "Our brother is alive, Heero. Harry's alive. And so are you. So are you."

"What do you mean?" Heero asked, his eyes wide and open. Curious. 

"I mean you could have died," Quatre said. He felt himself getting hysterical, but there was nothing he could do to stop it. "You almost died, you stupid idiot! How could you do that to me! How could you almost leave me?" Quatre crushed Heero to his chest. "You promised me you'd never leave me."

"I won't," Heero whispered. He kissed Quatre's neck, right on the jugular vein. "As long as you're there to catch me when I fall, we'll always be together. You, me, and someday, Harry."

Quatre held his brother tightly in his arms. It would happen exactly like Heero said. He wouldn't have it any other way.

***

Harry stood frozen outside the door. Poppy had let him go a few minutes earlier, and he had wanted to find Quatre and Heero. First, to see if they were all right. Second, to find out why they were so secretive. Third, to find out why he was so drawn to them. he wanted to know all the whos, whats, whens, wheres, and whys of their lives. Harry found out one—or rather, three. They were his brothers.

Harry ran from the tower. He had to think.

Selune


	11. Harry Finds Out

Disclaimer: I do not own any things Harry Potter—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to the wonderful J. K. Rowling and whomever else she decides. I do not own anything Gundam Wing—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to (I think) Bandai and Sunrise.

Spoilers: This fic contains spoilers for books 1-5 of Harry Potter and all of the episodes of Gundam Wing. This fic does not include Endless Waltz.

Rating: R

Pairings: Neville/Harry, 2x1

Summary: Two years ago, the One Year War ended. At this time, the five heroes—the Gundam pilots—disappeared from the Muggle world. Three of them—pilots 02, 03, and 05—reappeared shortly after in the Wizarding world, as students at Hogwarts School of Witchraft and Wizardry. Now, twenty months after the fact, Heero Yuy and Quatre Winner are coming to Hogwarts, and they're bringing all of their secrets with them. The world—especially one Harry Potter—will never be the same.

Peace, Love, and Family: 

The Story of the Vanuli Three

Chapter 10: Harry Finds Out

A large clatter from outside the door startled Heero. He bolted upright, out of Quatre's arms. "What was that?"

Heero looked back at Quatre. His eyes were closed—he was Looking. Quatre opened his eyes and shook his head.

"It was Harry," Quatre said quietly. "He knows." 

Quatre ran his fingers through Heero's hair, ruffling it. He pulled Heero's back to him and kissed the top of his head. Heero reveled in his big brother's ministrations. Quatre knew all of his buttons, just like Heero knew all of his.

Still, dreadful butterflies—not nice ones like he played with before the day turned bad, but the awful, horrible kind—threatened to overtake his throat. Heero couldn't stop thinking about what they would do if Harry rejected them. That was really the only reason Heero and Quatre hadn't told him yet—fear of rejection. When Heero first told Quatre what they were—what they _probably _were— to each other, Quatre didn't want to believe it. It wasn't until Heero became seriously injured on a mission that Quatre came to accept it. Heero hoped he wouldn't have to do that again. It hurt enough the first time.

"Should we go after him?" Heero asked. He sat on the edge of the bed, ready to leave if Quat said they should.

"No," Quatre said. He pulled Heero over to snuggle on his chest. "He needs some time to himself. Besides, he's got to come back sometime."

"Yeah, I guess so," Heero said. He closed the curtains around the bed, and they settled in to wait for the return of their brother.

***

Harry ran from the tower, ignoring the shocked protests from his friends and peers as he pushed them aside in his haste to get away from Heero and Quatre. Away from his startling discovery. 

They were his brothers. That was their big secret. Their huge secret.

Harry ran, neither knowing nor caring where he ended up. Harry's flight came to an abrupt stop when he reached a door he recognized. The Room of Requirement. Harry knew what he required, what he needed. He needed answers. He needed to know why they didn't tell him, if indeed it was even true. Harry didn't know absolutely for sure that he was who they were talking about. There could be another Harry who almost died today here at Hogwarts.

Yeah, right. Harry knew that their was a 99.9% chance he was the subject of their discussion. The only way to know for sure, however, was to ask them. That wasn't going to happen. Not anytime soon, anyway. Harry didn't know if he would be able to keep his temper under control. Whether he was their brother or not, Harry had a reason to be angry. If he was their brother, they had withheld pertinent information by not telling him straight to his face that day on the train. If he wasn't, they had outright lied by saying he was, even if it was just to each other. The only way Harry knew for him to be able to calmly find the answer was if the Room told him.

Harry took a deep breath and opened the door. The Room of Requirement was much different from the last time he'd been in it, during fifth year. Then, it had been large, with an assortment of Defense books and areas in which to practice counter-curses. Now, it was small and round. It was maybe fifteen feet in diameter, and the ceiling was so low Ron wouldn't be able to walk upright. Dean would have to double over just to get in the door. The only light in the room came from a small candle. The only other object was a black mirror.

Harry stalked the few feet to it, slamming the door behind him. He picked up the mirror and glared at it.

"Great," he drawled. "I reckon I'm supposed to _divine _my answer. Perhaps I shall go outside, and the _stars_ will tell me what I wish to know."

Despite his mocking, Harry sat down and gazed into the mirror. After all, it was his only other option. Quickly—how quickly, Harry didn't know—the dark room melted away to be replace with a bright one. He was in the Gryffindor seventh year boys' room. He was on Quatre's bed. In Quatre's body.

***

Quatre continued petting his brother and kissing him on the head. Over the years, Heero had come to be a very tactile person, in part from his Gift and the rest from a childhood lacking such luxuries as a loving touch. Quatre's touches always calmed and comforted Heero. Sometimes they were the only thing that would. Quatre was very touchy-feely, too, so he never minded it when he was called upon to help his brother in this manner.

Quatre loved Heero more than anything in the world or in the colonies. Heero was everything to him. His sun, his moon, his earth, his life, his heart. Quatre once said that Heero was the heart of space, but he was so much more than that. Quatre knew that if Heero should ever die, he would go insane with grief. When Heero was given the scar on his back, he died. Quatre killed the individual responsible, but not before he made him watch as Quatre had his entire species annihilated. Quatre felt no remorse for the act, and he never would. No one who hurt his family would live.

Harry was family. He was fast gaining ground in Quatre's heart and would soon share an equal place with Heero. The prospect both scared and excited Quatre. Their triumvirate would be complete; they would be whole. They would be able to Fuse together, to become one. Even if they didn't Fuse, they would still be able to do more, magically, than they would ever be able to do separately. Their bond would strengthen, and they would grow closer every day.

But it all depended on Harry. On whether he accepted or rejected his brothers. At this point, Quatre wouldn't be too averse to maiming Harry, at the very least, if he hurt Heero by rejecting them. The only things that stopped Quatre from seriously considering the idea was his own growing love for Harry and the knowledge that the act itself would hurt Heero. Quatre would never deliberately hurt his baby brother. He loved him.

Heero looked up at Quatre. "Do you think he'll be back soon?" Heero asked.

Quatre kissed Heero's forehead, a quick peck that left their magics briefly intermingled. "I don't know when he'll be back. The future's more your department than mine, Ro."

"Well, should I look then?" Heero said. He sounded uneasy, and with good reason. There was no way Quatre was going to let Heero use that large an amount of magic after the day he'd had.

"No," Quatre said. "You drained yourself too much today, and you lost too much blood. You're too weak. You might hurt yourself."

Heero struggled out of Quatre's arms and turned to glare at him. "I'm not weak," he said. "I don't think that even _I_ could hurt myself with a quick peek at my brother."

Quatre knew Heero would do that, even without having a knack for the future. He always got so angry whenever anyone mentioned his weaknesses. He was still sore about losing his physical strength when he gained his magic. But the fact of the matter was that he wasn't as strong as he used to be. He injured easily and took a while to recover.

"Just humor me. Please?" Quatre said, giving Heero a smile. Heero huffed but collapsed back into Quatre's arms. "I just worry. You know that. You could be the strongest, toughest guy on this world or any other, and I would still worry if you got a bee sting. It's my nature. I'm a worrier."

"I know," Heero said. He played with the buttons on Quatre's shirt before laying his hand over Quatre's heart. "Sometimes I just wish you didn't need to be."

"Don't wish that!" Quatre said with mock horror. "If I couldn't worry, I don't know _what_ I'd do with myself."

"Um...," Heero trailed off. he scrunched up his nose in the most adorable way, pretending to think. "Write the great Arabian novel? Learn how to play _another_ musical instrument? Get a boyfriend? Or a girlfriend, maybe? I don't judge."

Quatre hugged his brother tighter. "Heero, you know the only thing I need—the only thing I _want—_is my family. Nothing else. Just you and Dorothy and Harry."

"Yeah." Spoken softly, barely above a whisper.

"I love you so much, baby brother," Quatre said.

"And I you, big brother."

Quatre tilted Heero's head and kissed him on the lips. "Go to sleep, Heero. I'll wake you when Harry gets back."

"Okay," Heero and Quatre snuggled on top of the covers, Heero using Quatre as a body pillow. Just like before.

***

Dorothy Catalonia was pissed as hell. She hadn't seen her Quatre, her Heero, or her Harry (yes, _her_ Harry; he may not know it yet, but he would soon find out) all day. 

Of course, several of the other Slytherins had. Round about two, Draco Malfoy came into the common room, complaining about Harry and his new boyfriend. Dorothy's ears had perked up at that, but after determining that Malfoy had no new information, she had thoroughly hexed him. It took him _hours_ to get "I want to be Harry's Potter's love slave" out of his robes. Every time he changed, it would appear on the new set. It was very cruel, very entertaining. It was what one got when he threatened, insulted, or otherwise hurt one of her Niamos.

And it looked like she would have to do it again. Over in the corner of the room, Duo Maxwell and Trowa Barton _insisted_ on talking about her Heero and Quatre. She wasn't sure exactly what they were saying, but every now and then, she would hear their names. How Dorothy wished she had bought those short-range hearing devices she saw at Weasley's Wizard Wheezes earlier in the day. Extendable Ears, she thought they were. At the time, though, they hadn't seemed very practical.

Dorothy huffed and stood from her chair. It looked like she was going to have to ask them _politely _what they were discussing and why. Then, if she found their reasons malicious, disconcerting, or otherwise undesirable, she could do away with the offending parties and all witnesses. No one would be the wiser, and her precious darlings would be safe and unharmed.

"Ahem," she said in her cutest, most unassuming voice as she came upon the probable miscreants. They looked to her and instantly shut up. "I couldn't help but overhear..." She trailed off to give them ample opportunity to defend themselves.

"I told you we shouldn't talk about this down here, but _no_, you weren't going to let one little Gryffindor lover run us out of our common room," Maxwell said in a not-so-quiet aside to Barton. He pulled on Barton's robe. "Let's go."

Barton appeared as if he would follow but was reluctant to do so, so Dorothy stepped between the two humans, blocking Barton's escape. She put up her hands in that time-honored tradition to show that she was harmless. Of course, she was anything but harmless. Barton didn't have to know that.

"Please, don't misunderstand me," she said, giving Barton her million kilowatt smile. "I only meant to find out if anything bad happened to my friends, Heero and Quatre. As I said before, I couldn't help but overhear them mentioned, and I only hoped that they remain unharmed." _Because if they aren't, I will hunt down the bastard who hurt them and make him watch as I rip his heart from his body and eat it, _Dorothy added silently. She wisely decided saying that aloud might dissuade Maxwell and Barton from telling her the truth.

"Unless you count being thoroughly fucked as harmful, I'm sure your pals Quatre and Heero are A-okay," Maxwell said, clapping Barton on the back.

"What do you mean?" Dorothy asked cautiously. Surely he didn't mean...? No, that was preposterous. If Heero had succeeded in attaining the unattainable (namely one pissed of Shinigami), the entire school would know about it. There would be cakes and streamers. Heero would be doing his Little Happy Dance, named such for the way it made the audience feel, as well as the mood he was in when he did it. And Heero would currently be glued to Maxwell's side, not over in...wherever he was. Losing Duo was the only thing Heero ever seriously regretted about going to L1 with Quatre. If he caught him again, he'd never let go.

"I mean, Miss Dorothy, that one Mr. Winner was seen carrying one very naked Mr. Yuy out of the Forbidden Forest earlier today, wrapped only in a robe," Maxwell said, his face growing steadily darker as he talked. "The only thing you might want to do is talk to Quatre about being a little less rough. I've heard reports of blood."

_Blood. _That got Dorothy's attention, and quick. She hauled Maxwell up by the collar of his robe and held him against the wall. He was taller than her by about eight feet, so it was a little awkward; however, she had the superior strength. When it came to her children's safety, she could bitch-slap a dragon with a fully grown elephant. One measly human wasn't going to strain her any, no matter how much he fought back. And fight back he did. Maxwell kicked, punched, pinched with all the fervor of one who expects to be eaten by a large spider of some sort but wouldn't if only he could get out of the web. He settled down when he realized that Dorothy's grip did not loosen during his entire tirade.

"Now," Dorothy said, forcing a pleasant smile her face. It always helped to be as polite as possible. "You are going to tell me all the details of why my darling Heero was naked and bleeding. You will tell me everything, from the exact position of the sun and moon at the time of the occurrence to every subtle nuance that flickered across Quatre's face as he carried Heero. After you, Maxwell, tell me everything you know, Barton will spew forth all of his data. Then, I will be directed to the source of this knowledge, who will either confirm or deny what you and Barton just told me and will then proceed to elaborate upon your disclosures."

"And if we don't?" Maxwell asked, attempting to show that he was not fearful of her. The fact that he was shaking caused her to discredit that notion.

"The consequences of refusal are simple," Dorothy said, dropping Maxwell. She took out her wand and performed a complex locking spell on the portrait leading to the Slytherin common room. She set it to enact upon every window, every secret passageway, every opening in the dungeons large enough to fit a baby mouse through. "I will kill each and every one of you in such a manner that you will look fondly upon the drawing and quartering deaths of olden days and wish that you could have died in such a pleasant manner." Dorothy dropped the smile from her face, and several hardened Slytherins recoiled at the sight.

"Talk," she commanded. Maxwell obeyed.

***

After Dorothy heard what happened, she placed a general but strong _Obliviate_ over the whole of Slytherin house. She couldn't let it get out that she made a death threat to approximately 250 people for what could have been no more than a scratch. Heero would never forgive her for hurting Maxwell. Quatre would probably give her a standing ovation and yell for an encore. Dorothy tended to agree with Quatre more than Heero when it came to the subject of Heero. He was a fragile doll who was to be protected at all times, no matter how many useless people had to die in the process. Such was the price of love.

Dorothy was very glad she did it. According to her calculations (which were most likely 1/10th of a pint off; it took three examples, but after the third time that she opened the veins of a boy about the same size as Heero, the informant was able to narrow down the amount), the amount of blood Heero lost could only have come from one thing. His scar must have broken open. 

There was no way it could have happened during intercourse, as Maxwell had suggested. Firstly, the scab over the scar was too strong to be broken by any but the most strenuous and taxing of activities. It survived throughout a Vanuli party—or three. There was no way a little roll in the hay was going to defeat it. Secondly, Heero was not about to break a twenty month abstinence fest two weeks after meeting up with Maxwell again. Especially not with his own brother. Despite Vanuli laws and traditions, Heero and Quatre were still too uncomfortable with the idea of incest to have sex with each other. No matter how good a match Dorothy suggested they made.

So, the only possible conclusion was that Heero was attacked, and Quatre was merely tending to him. Which didn't really make much sense until a first year spoke up about Harry. Apparently, she heard from her friend in Ravenclaw who heard it from her cousin in Hufflepuff who was best friends with Dennis Creevy in Gryffindor who was the little brother of Colin Creevy, obsessed Harry fanatic/unofficial photographer that a centaur had been seen carrying Harry out of the Forbidden Forest approximately eleven and a half minutes before Quatre was seen with Heero. It was later discovered that a foreign Panther Lily had been practically incinerated about a quarter of the way into the forest. Dorothy put one and two together and came up with four—herself being four, of course. Heero and Quatre must have been in the forest for Heero's pre-puppy romp, Harry was lured in by the Lily, and in the subsequent rescue attempt, both Heero and Harry were injured.

Dorothy realized that they were probably busy afterward, what with the healing and nonexistent damage control. She still would have liked an owl, a house elf, smoke signal, _something_ to inform her of the occurrences of the day. She decided that tomorrow, at breakfast, her eldest Niamo was going to get an earful of mayhem. Heero would, of course, get nothing but sympathy.

***

Harry put down the mirror and backed away slowly. He didn't need the bad luck that breaking it wold most certainly entail. That had to be the weirdest vision Harry had ever had. He'd not just seen the action, he'd been a part of it. Touched as they touched, smelled what they smelled, felt what they felt. First as Quatre, then as Dorothy. The softness of Heero's hair, the plumpness of his lips. The anger at Maxwell's disregard of Heero, then the delight as he recoiled in terror. He thought what they thought, as well. From every voiced thought to the almost-unformed ones they didn't even know they had.

It was the most intense, ongoing vision he ever had. He hoped never to have another one again. But it did help him piece things together. He could—to use Dorothy's words—put one and two together and come up with four. Only, based on his calculations, he was two. The second born. Quatre was one, and Heero was three. Dorothy's oldest, middle, and baby Niamos. 

And if Harry was right, that meant something to terrifying for Harry to comprehend. He wasn't human, he was Vanuli. And not just any Vanuli. One of the triplets.

Harry didn't go back to his room that night.

Selune


	12. The Talk

Disclaimer: I do not own any things Harry Potter—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to the wonderful J. K. Rowling and whomever else she decides. I do not own anything Gundam Wing—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to (I think) Bandai and Sunrise.

Spoilers: This fic contains spoilers for books 1-5 of Harry Potter and all of the episodes of Gundam Wing. This fic does not include Endless Waltz.

Rating: R

Pairings: Neville/Harry, 2x1

Summary: Two years ago, the One Year War ended. At this time, the five heroes—the Gundam pilots—disappeared from the Muggle world. Three of them—pilots 02, 03, and 05—reappeared shortly after in the Wizarding world, as students at Hogwarts School of Witchraft and Wizardry. Now, twenty months after the fact, Heero Yuy and Quatre Winner are coming to Hogwarts, and they're bringing all of their secrets with them. The world—especially one Harry Potter—will never be the same.

Peace, Love, and Family: 

The Story of the Vanuli Three

Chapter 11: The Talk

Harry avoided Quatre and Heero from Saturday night until Tuesday night. Any time they were in the same room as him, he left. If he couldn't leave, as in the case of classes, he stayed as far away from them as humanly possible. This led to him being on the _Slytherin _side during Potions and Care of Magical Creatures, but Harry didn't care. Not much, anyway. As long as none of the Slytherins touched him—especially Catalonia, who he was also avoiding—he was fine. Except for the fact that his stomach gnawed at him for eating so little (he did the grab and dash thing in order to leave the Great Hall quicker), his nerves were shot (it came from always looking over his shoulder to see if They were there), and his nightmares came back (he took to sleeping in the Common Room to lessen the time he spent with, around, or near Quatre and Heero).

Harry was not having a fun time. So on Wednesday night, after having failed to block Remus' hex during his "tutoring" for the third time in a row, Harry gave up. He threw in the towel, admitted defeat, just all around _gave up_. Consciously _not _being around Them only made Harry think of Them more. It was upsetting him, disturbing him, and most importantly, distracting him. Harry could not afford to be distracted. Not with Voldemort on the loose and the death toll rising every day.

Harry would go to Quatre and Heero. He would demand an explanation, and they would give it to him. He would catch them in a lie and turn them over to Professor Dumbledore, who would then properly dispose of them. Afterwards, Harry's only worries would be about a psychotic maniac trying to kill him and all his loved ones. The usual.

When Remus let Harry out of the session, he practically sprinted for Gryffindor Tower. He yelled out the password to the Fat Lady—hopefully not waking up anyone—and for the first time in several days, ascended the stairs to the boys' dorms during sleeping hours. However, he had no intention of going to sleep.

Harry opened the door, and his eyes immediately went to his own bed, as if they were drawn by some unseen force. His curtains were open, flung wide in such a way as to seem haphazard, but Harry knew it was intentional. The light of the moon, flowing in from the window by Dean's bed, illuminated the occupants of Harry's bed. They lay in apparent slumber, nestled against each other.

They were breathtaking. They were gorgeous. They were awake. And, Harry knew, they were waiting for him.

***

Heero and Quatre waited for Harry the same way they had waited since Sunday night. Saturday night, they waited on Quatre's bed, trying to stay awake until Harry returned. It didn't work because Harry did not return. Since then, they slept in Harry's bed with the curtains open. They reasoned that, when Harry eventually returned to his bed, his mere presence would awaken them. Failing that, his screams of horror surely would.

They were right. Sort of. It wasn't Harry's presence that woke Heero up, but his footsteps. In the few short weeks that he knew Harry, Heero was able to recognize Harry's footsteps. They were fast but even, his left foot making a slightly louder _slap_ than his right. Duh-DUH, duh-DUH, Heero's ears heard Harry's unique walk and relayed it to his brain. His brain then realized that the sound was coming from Harry and that Heero wanted to wake up for Harry. It yelled at Heero to wake up, so he did. Quatre woke up moments after Heero.

Heero yawned and stretched, trying to send off a casual vibe. Inside, he was anything but casual, the opposite of relaxed. Heero was a bundle of tightly stretched nerves, ready to ping-pong off the walls of his emotions should anything go wrong. This was the day Heero had been waiting for since he was seven years old and his mother told him what he was. This was the day of reckoning, the day to either make or break the prophecy, the day of the first bond. The bond of understanding. If Harry could not understand his brothers, he would never come to truly love them. If he could not love them, they could never become close enough to be considered brothers—not by Vanuli standards. If they were not brothers, they were nothing, and they would die.

Heero didn't know if Quatre understood the true importance of this night. He himself could barely grasp it, and even then, he had to hold on tight for the fear that it would fly away. Heero knew that, in order to get Harry to see—to understand, to realize, to _know—_what the three of them really were, he would have to tell things that he would rather have nobody know. Heero knew—he _knew—_that he would have to tell Harry the truth, the whole truth, and nothing but the truth _so help him GOD_, if they were to be a family. There could be no secrets. He wouldn't allow it. Heero opened his mouth to speak, to tell Harry all of his secrets, but Harry beat him to it.

"Prove it to me," Harry said, standing right beside the bed. "Make me believe."

Heero could smell Harry's unique scent—cinnamon with a bit of musk. It was the same scent infused in Harry's pillows, in his sheets. It was yet another reason that Quatre and Heero slept in Harry's bed—it made them feel closer to him. Heero renewed his vow to make Harry understand, to prove it to him, to make him _believe._

"What do you want us to prove to you?" Quatre asked, rising up behind Heero into a sitting position. He draped an arm over Heero's shoulder in a protective gesture. They had discussed how to react to Harry on Saturday night and had decided to feign ignorance until they were absolutely sure that Harry knew about them, but Heero still cringed at the way Quatre acted. His tone of voice was harsher than Heero would have liked, and the arm over the shoulder showed a possessiveness that they shouldn't show until later, when Harry was already involved. Heero knew that Quatre was prepared for Harry to reject them—and was, in fact, expecting it—and that he didn't want Heero to get hurt during the process. Quatre wanted Heero to know that he was always loved.

"Don't make me say it. Don't you _dare_ make me say it," Harry said, lowering his voice to just above a whisper. It carried a quiet pleading to it. He was asking them to take it back, to deny it all and make it untrue. 

Heero understood—Quatre did the same thing when he found out. But now was not the time to lie to Harry. If they didn't tell the truth, they would never be together. Heero decided to abandon "the plan."

"We're your brothers," Heero said, reaching out, even faster than he could during the war, and grabbing Harry as he started to run off. Heero might have lost much of his strength in the process of regaining his magic, but his speed had only grown. Strength wasn't what he needed now. Heero only needed to hold onto Harry for less than a moment. Still gripping Harry's arm, Heero sent a warm, relaxing feeling to him. He didn't use any emotions to amplify the effect, nor did he make Harry more open to the idea of being a Vanuli, he merely calmed Harry and made him less nervous. It worked like a very mild sedative.

Heero let go of his brother, but he could still feel Harry's similar magic dancing under his fingertips. "Please," Heero implored before Harry could walk away, "sit down. Let us explain."

***

For some reason unknown to Harry, all of the doubts plaguing his mind went away with Heero's touch. Harry didn't want to leave Quatre's or Heero's side, the two who claimed to be his brothers. Harry didn't know whether they were or not, but he _did _that he felt connected to them, somehow, someway. So when Heero offered to explain everything, Harry stayed.

Thus, all three boys came to be sitting in a triangle in what used to be called Indian style, but (because of political correctness) it was probably now call Native American style. Quatre and Harry faced Heero, Quatre probably knowing and Harry figuring it out that Heero was running the show, at least for now. It was fairly obvious that Heero knew the most about their situation and could shed a fair amount of light on it. Harry wanted to ask Heero so many things—one of them being "Just how much did Malfoy pay you to say this?"—but, in the end, he decided to demand, not ask, only one thing. Of course, it was a big thing.

"Start at the beginning," Harry said, leaning back against the post on his bed, "and tell me everything."

***

Heero opened his mouth to speak, and quickly closed it again. The "beginning" might be all well and good, but which beginning was he to use? Should he start with beginning of _them _or the beginning of their beginning, or even the beginning of their beginning's beginning? Heero didn't know, and he flopped back on Harry's pillows in frustration.

Normally, Heero wouldn't care too much. He would just pick one—the one that involved the least actual talking—and be done with it. If, later, more information was needed, he would cough it up. Now, however, he had to get it exactly right on the first try. Otherwise, Harry might think that Heero maliciously withheld information from him. So Heero decided to err on the side of too much information.

Heero cleared his throat—this was going to take a while. "Once upon a time," he began. It wasn't the best way to start such a story as this, but it was damned well how he was going to start it. He liked "once upon a time." "Once upon a time" was fairy tales, and fairy tales always ended with "and they lived happily ever after." Heero wanted them to have a "happily ever after," and he would do anything he could to get it. Even if the only thing he could do was say it out loud. 

"Once upon a time, very, very far from here, there lived a great man named Heero Yuy. He lived, not on the land, but in the sky. Heero Yuy was a man of peace, an advocate for the alliance of _all _nations, whether they were Earth or colony. Heero Yuy was a great man with a vision for peace. He was the leader of the colonies and could have brought them independence from Earth and maintained a friendship with Earth. He was assassinated twenty-two years ago. Shot down in the prime of his life, of his career.

"Heero Yuy had many friends, and they were outraged at his loss. They swore revenge upon his killers—and they counted all of Earth as his killers. Five scientists in particular vowed to avenge his death with the most powerful of Mobile Suits: the Gundams. The men each went their separate ways, each to build a suit that would complement the other four. Each would train a pilot of extraordinary talent to pilot the suit and do their dirty work.

"I don't know about the other four, but one of the scientists did not want just _anyone_ to pilot his suit. No, he wanted a weapon. A perfect weapon." Heero stopped speaking and looked away from his brothers. The next bit that he had to tell wasn't known by anyone other than the one's who'd lived it. Quatre only know bits and pieces, seen through that sometimes awful, sometimes great Sight of his, but not even he knew the whole story. Heero had hoped to never let anyone know of his childhood home. He drew his arms around his knees as he prepared to tell of it.

"Dr. J—that was his name—decided that, in order to get a perfect weapon, a _perfect _tool for him to wield, he would need a vast amount of candidates. And so J recruited, young men and women alike, entire battalions of prospective weapons. Heero Yuy's own son was among them. He was only twelve when he joined with J. J broke up his recruits into units—Alpha through Epsilon. There were twelve recruits per unit, their rank going in ascending order. The Ones were the leaders of their units, the Twelves were the pretty much lower than dirt.

"J trained his recruits. He worked them so hard that many died. It soon became evident to him that none of his recruits would _ever _be perfect. They were tainted by their former lives. And that's when he began his breeding program. He took the best of his soldiers—for they were not good enough to be weapons and would forever only attain the rank of soldier—and bred them with each other. Their offspring, the Zetas and Etas, were born into a world of training. They knew nothing of play or fun or friends. They grew up with battle tactics and guns and hexes."

"Soon, J came to see that his human weapons would never be perfect, so he began to experiment with a whole host of other creatures. There was a unit of Sirens, one of minotaurs, even one of Acromantula Homomagi. They were Acromantula that could appear human—always as blonde, voluptuous females—at will. Very scary girls, but nice. Those units were from Theta to Upsilion.

"When none of those units measured up to J's unrealistic expectations, he went back to his human breeding, but he also began a search for the perfect species from which to breed his perfect weapon. Eventually, he heard about the Vanuli, and his search was over. Vanuli were very powerful beings that could appear to be any creature they wished _and_ were fiercely loyal to their family? If J could have one and train it to think of him as family, he would have his perfect weapon.

"Of course, Dr. J didn't want a _normal_ Vanuli. There were over 8,000 Vanuli in existence, and if he could get his hands on one, surely the enemy could as well. No, J wanted a _special_ Vanuli. So when he heard about the immense raw power of Vanuli twins, he decided that he wanted something even grander than them. Something no one had ever thought possible, and thus that no one else would have. He wanted triplets, quadruplets, quintuplets, _anything_ as long as they were more powerful than, as he put it, "present models."

"However, as I and Quatre and now you know, the womb of a Vanuli woman will only expand far enough to hold one six pound baby. No one really knows why, except for the fact that is how it has always been. Most likely, that is how it will always be. Dr. J knew this. He also knew that, for every rule, there is always an exception. The exception, of course, being Vanuli twins. Occasionally, always to the most powerful clans—the LeFeys, the Peacecrafts, the Morrigals—a set of twins would pop up. Usually only once every nine generations or so. 

"No one really knows why twins would occur. Or rather, I should say, no one _knew _why twins would occur. After extensive research and...field testing, J eventually discovered the genetics behind such a rare occurence. He discovered that it was related to the unique energy signatures the parents emitted. He found that twins were actually conceived quite often, but if the signatures on the parents' reproductive bits were not synchronized or very nearly so, the twins would abort before the mother was even aware she was pregnant. For triplets, J surmised, the amount of similarity between the parents' energy signatures had to be even higher to prevent the fetuses from aborting. With the very low chance of even _conceiving_ triplets—after all, even in the human world, identical triplets are a pretty rare occurrence—the opportunity for a mother to give birth to a set was slim to none.

"And then J discovered something else. He discovered that the instances of twins was distinctly higher in the more promiscuous families. As I said before, it was usually the LeFeys, the Peacecrafts, the Morrigals. They are all noble families, and as such, they enjoy a greater amount of sexual partners. What Dr. J discovered was that when there were two fathers instead of one, it was their combined energy signature that was compared with the mother's. As there was two of them, the chances of getting a match out of the combination was significantly greater, and thus infraternal twins were much more common than identical or fraternal twins.

"That was the philosophy J went on when he went about trying to create us. The only problem was, he needed a Vanuli woman and three men to do it."

***

Quatre could sense his younger brothers tiring. Heero wasn't used to talking so much. Hell, a great orator from Talkaholics Anonymous wasn't used to talking as much as Heero just had. But, as both he and Heero knew, the story had to be told, and it had to be told tonight. Quatre hugged Heero once more before whispering to him that he would take over. After all, Quatre knew practically everything about their mother that Heero did. If Quatre left anything out, he was sure that Heero would speak up. Heero gave Quatre a Glare O' Death, and Quatre, like the magnificent older brother that he was, took that as a cue to begin.

"We're not really sure how J convinced our mother to bear us," Quatre said. "All we really learned, from a file Dr. J had on the project—Project Three, he called it. Very original, right?" Quatre snorted. It amazed him sometimes how the most intelligent of men—and evil bastard that he was, J was smart—could be so _uncreative_. "From the file, we learned that J, somehow, got a Vanuli woman to come aboard the project. He could get no men to join her, and so had to find three other men to impregnate her. The "her" in question being our mother, Miss Morgan LeFey the Seventh, the sole surviving daughter of the twins Aravu LeFey and the heir to the LeFey clan.

"J used many of his weapons in an attempt to make Morgan pregnant, but no three men were a good match. In fact, only one of them was even a candidate to impregnate her—the original Heero Yuy's son, Heero Yuy II. Several others were very close to meeting it, but only he actually did. Then, J only needed two more fathers.

"J found my father, Raberba Winner, several months after that, when he and his wife Quaterina came into a Wizard fertility clinic that was under J's watch. Raberba and Quaterina already had twenty-nine daughters—all born from test tubes—but, to their horror, they could never conceive a son. One of J's associates ran a signature scan on my father, and he came up as a match for Morgan.

"J's associate invited Raberba and Quaterina to join a new project virtually _guaranteed_ to give them a male heir. In their naivety, they agreed, and J had a second father.

"It wasn't long after that until your parents, Harry, came into another clinic that J was watching. James and Lily Potter had been trying for months to conceive a child, all to no avail. They feared that one, or both, of them became infertile due to curse injuries. James was fine—healthy, even—but Lily was not. A hex that hit her in the stomach rendered her sterile.

"J's associate—a different one—performed the scan on James. When he came up a match, the associate offered them the opportunity to join a new project. It wasn't guaranteed, she said, it was still in the experimental stages. But, she said, it might be able to let the couple have children that were both his and hers. After hearing the complete spiel, James and Lily agreed to try it. They signed on, and J had the third father. His search was over."

***

Harry listened to Quatre in growing frustration. This couldn't be true, could it? Heero and Quatre being his brother—Harry might be able to accept it, given time. Not being human—not extremely unlikely given his past of accomplishing the impossible. But Lily Potter not being his real, true mother? Harry wasn't sure he could ever come to believe that.

"So what happened after that?" Harry asked coldly. He honestly couldn't tell if the words came out harsher than or not as harsh as he intended. The little flinch from Heero that he saw out of the corner of his eye led Harry to believe the former. He had to—almost literally—stop himself from comforting Heero. Quatre had no such compunctions, and Harry felt a flair of almost-not-quite-jealousy when he gave Heero a one-armed hug.

"After that," Quatre said, the friendliness in his voice dropping ten degrees or so, "J collected _specimens_ from each of the fathers and inserted them into Morgan. They took, and she became pregnant. Four and a half months later, on July 31, AC 180, three bouncing baby boys were born. We were then snatched away by our loving fathers and taken everywhere but near each other. Heero and I found each other during the most recent Muggle War. Shortly after we discovered the exact nature of our relationship, we met Dorothy Catalonia. We found out what _she _was to us shortly after the war. And we found out who _you _were, our most precious Second, shortly after that."

Harry got the feeling that Quatre didn't like him much. To be more general, Harry got the feeling that Quatre didn't like _anyone_ who hurt Heero. And, try as he like, Harry felt the same way. He didn't want anyone to hurt Heero _or _Quatre. Harry didn't know if he would ever come to accept them as his brothers (although, it was becoming more likely with every passing minute), but he knew that he could love them a great deal. Possibly, already did.

"I need to think," Harry said. It was the absolute truth. He had learned so much tonight, it would take him forever to absorb it all. "I want to sleep it over." Harry tried to shoo Heero and Quatre away, but it didn't work. 

"Can we sleep with you?" Heero asked. He asked in such a way that the most evil demon in the deepest depths of hell could not deny him. Nevertheless, Harry tried. He attempted give Heero a resounding "No," but what came out was a more excited "Yes." As Quatre and Heero settled on either side of him, snuggling up close, Harry could not bring his mind to complain.

Selune


	13. A Big, NotSoBad Day

Disclaimer: I do not own any things Harry Potter—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to the wonderful J. K. Rowling and whomever else she decides. I do not own anything Gundam Wing—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to (I think) Bandai and Sunrise.

Spoilers: This fic contains spoilers for books 1-5 of Harry Potter and all of the episodes of Gundam Wing. This fic does not include Endless Waltz.

Rating: R

Pairings: Neville/Harry, 2x1

Summary: Two years ago, the One Year War ended. At this time, the five heroes—the Gundam pilots—disappeared from the Muggle world. Three of them—pilots 02, 03, and 05—reappeared shortly after in the Wizarding world, as students at Hogwarts School of Witchraft and Wizardry. Now, twenty months after the fact, Heero Yuy and Quatre Winner are coming to Hogwarts, and they're bringing all of their secrets with them. The world—especially one Harry Potter—will never be the same.

Peace, Love, and Family: 

The Story of the Vanuli Three

Chapter 12: A Big, Not-So-Bad Day

The Friday after Harry learned of his true place in the universe, Heero woke up feeling very strange. He recognized the feeling—had felt it several times in the past, in fact—but this time it was different. Every month since Heero's family became allied with several wolf packs, Heero went through several changes. About a week before the full moon, he would become playful, frolicking in the forest like a wolf cub. Throughout the week, his behavior would slowly mature. The day before the full moon, Heero would reach the peak of the change, and he would be consumed by Lust, a state that only fertile, mateless wolves achieved. As soon as the sun set on the night of the full moon, Heero's Lust would cease, and he would fall into a deep trance. Heero would control his puppies, his wolves, until the sun rose the next morning.

Eleven months ago, when Heero was fully healed from the ward removals, Dorothy had suggested that he and Quatre obtain allies. They would need friends, she said, if they were to fulfill their prophesied destiny. A wolf pack, led by a wolf named Roun, barely out of the cub stage himself, was the first to accept the family's offer of friendship. The pack offered the Vanuli protection in exchange for one thing—control. They would keep safe the young LeFey heirs as best they could, and the Vanuli would control their beasts for them. It was decided, after much deliberation, that Heero would be the one to reign in their viciousness.

The terms accepted, Heero had to figure out how to live up to his end of the bargain. Wolfsbane was out of the question. It would weaken the wolves so much that they would fail at their task. Eventually, he used his Gift to his advantage. He took the leader Roun to his bed, and in a fit of passion, Marked him. Heero tasted the blood of Roun, and Heero's magic flowed into him, consuming him. For a moment, Roun lived for Heero and would continue to live only by his will. When the moment was over, and Heero pulled back, the magic receded to the back of Roun's mind, only to be called up when the wolf had taken over. Heero had sprinkled the Mark with silver, so that it would never fully heal. It was their connection to one another, their physical symbol for their verbal agreement.

And thus, because of his connection with Roun and several other pack leaders, Heero went through a monthly cycle very similar to theirs. They played, they fucked, and they controlled the members of their packs. He played, he Lusted, and he controlled them.

However, this time was different from all the others Heero had experienced. Every month for almost ten months, he had played. This month, his play had been interrupted constantly. First by the attack on Harry, then by the continued solemnity that Quatre, Dorothy, and Harry persisted in maintaining. It made Heero tense and unwilling to frolic. And of course, this month, Heero's Lust-O-Meter was all out of whack. For all of the full moons preceding this one, Heero had been able to control his Lust. He had locked himself alone, in a steel room from which he could not escape, he had drunk Booamyie until he passed out, he had done anything possible to keep from acting on his desires. Heero could do no such thing this month, the main reason being that he didn't want to. Not with the object of his affection was oh, so very close.

Heero could smell him, the wonderful scent permeating from wherever he was, filling Heero's nostrils. Heero took in the scent before getting to work. He wanted Duo Maxwell, and he would have him. But to do that, he would have to make Duo want him again. Heero had a big day ahead of him.

***

Quatre and Harry smiled uneasily at each other from opposite ends of a couch in the Common Room. Despite having agreed to try to come to terms with his "new family," Harry was still uncomfortable being alone with just Quatre. Actually, he was uncomfortable being alone with Dorothy, Quatre, _or _Heero, but at the same time, he was more at ease there than anywhere else. Harry got a feeling in his gut like the floor had dropped beneath him, and he'd only just discovered it. It was a wholly awful, wonderful feeling that left an awful, wonderful taste in his mouth. He felt like he was flying but could fall any minute. It was sort of how he felt around Neville, who was now officially his boyfriend. Harry didn't know if he liked being a part of the family or not, but he felt there could be no harm in trying it out. After all, he had always wanted a family, and here was one, pre-made and ready for the taking. That was why he was here now with Quatre, waiting for Heero, so they could go to breakfast. 

Wednesday morning, when he'd woken up, Quatre and Heero had caught him off guard. They'd asked for a week, a mere seven days, in which to convince Harry of their ties to one another. In his sleep-addled state, he had agreed. Now, on the morning of the third day, Harry was no closer to being convinced that he was their brother, the second born of Vanuli triplets, than he was that this morning in Potions, Snape would pick the petals off a flower, say "He loves me, he loves me not," and declare his undying love to a Gryffindor—other than Quatre. But then Heero would do something, or Quatre would say something, and Harry's insides would warm, and he would think, _That's my brother_. It was confusing, to say the least, especially since the warm feeling eventually left, leaving Harry to wonder if he'd ever really felt it in the first place, if it was real or all just a trick.

The most confusing thing Harry ever felt in his messed up, dysfunctional, is-this-really-happening life, was when Heero descended the stairs leading from the boys' dormitories. Harry's jaw dropped in order to let his tongue roll across the floor in almost cartoon-like fashion. he had the urge to engage in one very unrandom act of incest. For coming down the stairs was no ordinary boy, it was a disciple of Aphrodite, a veritable Sex God.

Harry didn't know what Heero was wearing, but he got the sense that it was special, not something one normally wore to class or something of the like. Heero's robe—if it could be called a robe—was silky, filmy, gauzy. It was all three at once, yet it was none. At first glance, Harry couldn't tell _what _it was made of. At second and third glance, he was none the wiser and knew that would be the case even if identifying fabric were his entire life. The outfit fit Heero like a glove, conforming to his every curve until it reached his waist, where it flared out, the only indication that it might, in fact, be a robe of some sort. Although to Harry, it looked more like a dress than anything. When Heero stood still, the bottom of the robe/dress looked like it was one piece, all put together in a nice, neat, conservative fashion. But when he moved just a little bit this way or that, Harry could plainly see that it was, in fact, made up of many strips of the unknown fabric, like someone had taken the skirt of the robe and sliced into it. From the waist up, the robe/dress clung to Heero as if it were a living being and needed him as he needed oxygen. There were slits in the top, showing hints of abdomen, neck, nipple, and a flash of reddish pink near his stomach. It was, undeniably, the sexiest thing Harry had ever seen in his life. And his brother was wearing it.

Harry took a moment to catch his breath before deciding to just hold it. Quatre seemed intent on huffing—and puffing—all the air into his own lungs. After several years of heavy breathing, wherein Heero's clothes did not fall down and no littl piggies came running about the room, Quatre voiced a question that Harry himself might have, had he the air to do it.

"What are you WEARING?" Quatre roared angrily, much like a lion who's just seen something bad that made him very angry.

If Harry were Heero—and Quatre were Hermione—he would have _meep_ed and ran upstairs to change. Heero didn't seem to have the survival instincts that Harry had, and for that, Harry prayed for him.

"My Amenea robe," Heero said, smoothing the bottom of the object in question. He twirled around twice in a full circle, during which Harry realized that the object in question was _all _that Heero was wearing. "You like?"

_Hell, yes, _Harry thought, before banishing all naughty thought processes to a deep, dark corner of his mind. _I'm with Neville! _

_And Heero's my brother!_

_Probably._

"And just _why _are you wearing your Amenea robe?" Quatre asked, pinching the bridge of his nose. Harry got the feeling that he did it to stop himself from pinching or hitting or kicking Heero somewhere that was _not _the bridge of _his _nose. "Are you planning on going dancing before breakfast?"

"Only if you ask _real _nice," Heero said, tweaking Quatre on the nose, making him lose his grip. Heero giggled at Quatre's startled reaction—namely, to fall back on the couch—before running behind Harry, who didn't even realize it when he stood up. The flashes of skin Heero revealed when he ran _would_ have made Harry's naughty bits perk up, had he not told all thoughts of sex involving Heero—_I'm with Neville, damnit!—_to pack up and leave—_Heero's my **brother!—**_under pain of death and dismemberment.

"I'm going hunting," Heero said. It took Harry several minutes—Heero was using him as a shield now, against the attacks of Quatre the Prudish—but he eventually figured out _why _Heero was talking as well as _what_ he was saying. "I hear Slytherins are in season now, and I thought I would catch me a big one. I just needed the right bait."

Heero let go of Harry so fast that he spun. By the time he stopped, Heero was through the portrait hole, and Quatre was about to follow. Quatre stopped as suddenly as, well, something that would stop really, _really_ suddenly. He walked over to Harry, a red pill in his hand. He gave it to Harry.

"I forgot to give this to you," Quatre said as Harry took the pill. "It'll make you feel more _normal_."

Without a thought, Harry stuck the pill in his mouth and swallowed. He needed as much normal as he could get. In one word, the pill tasted revolting. In several words, it tasted like cat shit poured over a steaming pile of blast-ended skrewts with a couple of Ron's Quidditch socks artfully arranged as decoration. But Harry no longer had the urge to tie Heero down to the nearest flat surface and have his wicked way with him. All in all, a pretty good trade.

Harry ran after his brothers.

***

Dorothy felt the disturbance in the air before she heard any sound to indicate the sudden _wrongness_. Or rightness, as the case may be. Dorothy tried to ignore it and continue eating, but when several forks dropped, Vincent Crabbe wolf-whistled, and Draco Malfoy whispered in a not-very-quiet-voice, "In the name of all that is holy..." Dorothy's curiosity go the best of her. She looked up only to wish she hadn't but still very glad that she did.

In the doorway to the Great Hall stood the three most important people in the world. Quatre came in first, a bright scowl on his face, confusing everyone with his oxymoronic expression—happy and not-so-happy. Harry came next, looking slightly queasy but nonetheless in a good mood. Dorothy was ecstatic to see him and Quatre not squabbling, as they did almost constantly for the last two days. Heero came third. There was really only one word to describe Heero. Breath-takingly-rip-off-his-clothes-pin-him-to-the-wall-radiant.

Dorothy racked her brain trying to figure out why Heero was wearing his ceremonial Amenea robe, but she kept getting distracted by the movement of his lips. It was then that she remembered the date. It was the day before the full moon, and Heero's libido was in hyperdrive. He was sending out pheromones by the bucketload. She took her little red pill out of the pocket of her own robe and swallowed it just as Heero laughed—it sounded like the ringing of so many angelic bells. It made her belly tighten and her spirits soar and—then she was okay.

As the little red pill (Dorothy couldn't, for the life of her, remember what Quatre said it was) worked its magic, Dorothy took the opportunity to scan the room. Every eye was riveted on her boy, but his eyes were for one person and one person only. Dorothy followed his gaze back to Maxwell, who was the only person—except for her, of course—looking everywhere but at Heero. Dorothy's eyes flicked back to Heero in time to see his lower lip tremble and his eyes fill with tears. When he saw her looking at him, he banished his tears and flashed her a smile, blinding in its intensity. He turned away from her and went to the Gryffindor table.

What Heero didn't see, though, was that as soon as he looked away, Maxwell's eyes followed him like a lost puppy dog. Out of the corner of her eye, Dorothy saw Barton give Maxwell a signal as soon as Heero wasn't looking. Upon reception of the signal, Maxwell checked out Heero as though he were a very old Bellarmee and Maxwell was the lucky bastard who had enough antivenom to get to eat him. In Dorothy's opinion, if the location of where his eyes looked indicated anything, Maxwell decided to take his first bite out of Heero's ass.

Dorothy almost died laughing when Maxwell realized that _other _people were watching Heero in the same hungry fashion. When he noticed that he wasn't the only one to notice Heero's sexified look, he scowled. When no one seemed to care about his unpleasant expression, he growled. When he saw that Malfoy stared at Heero, his jaw gaping open and drool falling down his chin, Maxwell suggested that he would put Malfoy's fallen fork through vital bits, vital _naughty _bits, of his anatomy if he continued to stare with such desire. Every Slytherin within hearing range—Malfoy included—took that as an invitation to go back to their breakfast.

Heero most definitely got the desired reaction from Maxwell, but he didn't know it. And Dorothy certainly wasn't going to tell him.

***

He was so close. He was so close that Heero could smell him, that sweet musky scent. Heero longed to roll in his scent, to rub against the origin of the scent and mark _him _with Heero's own. Heero could almost touch him. He was so close, and about to get closer. Heero started to stand up—he would rub, roll, bask in the scent of his Duo—right when a dark form lurched above him, blocking his path to Duo.

"Just what do you think you are doing, Mr. Yuy?" the stupid thing drawled in its stupid voice, stupidly blocking his escape.

"What? Go away," Heero said to the thing he now recognized as Professor Snape. "I don't have time to answer your moronic questions. I'm busy. Go away."

But Snape refused to go away. He continued to stand in Heero's way, maliciously preventing him from running to Duo and having mad monkey sex all over the Slytherin table with him. It was getting on Heero's nerves.

"Mr. Yuy, I know that you are new here, so I'm going to explain Hogwarts' dress code to you just this one time," Snape said slowly, as if to a child. "Every student at Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry is required to wear a Hogwarts robe while on school property and outside of the dormitories. _You_, Mr. Yuy, are outside of the dormitories, but _that_"—Snape pointed to Heero's Amenea robe—"is not a Hogwarts school robe. I suggest you go change before I start handing out detentions." Snape smirked, as if he thought that Heero actually _cared _about school policy and detention. As if he thought Heero would now go change, like a good little puppet.

Not gonna happen.

Heero reached out a grabbed Snape's finger, which was still pointing at him in a _very _rude manner. He held it in his hand, sending Snape lust and need and obedience as he talked. "Well, Professor Snape," Heero said, very low so that only Snape could hear him, "surely _some _exceptions can be made. After all, it's such a very _silly _rule, don't you think?" Snape nodded, his eyes glazed over from Heero's manipulation. "Can't we let it go _just this once_?" Again, Snape nodded, his eyes fixed firmly on the dip in Heero's neck. "Great! So, I'll just be going—"

The second that Heero let go of Snape, the bell rang, signalling the start of class. Everyone was still at breakfast, including the teachers. There was a flurry of noise and papers and bodies as people, realizing that they had been in a daze for thirty minutes or more and were consequently late, rushed to get to class. Duo was one of them.

Heero sulked at his lost chance to seduce Duo, until he remembered that Potions was his first class of the day.

***

_Today is a very bad day. Today is a very bad day. Today is a very bad day. _Quatre played that litany in his mind over and over during potions. Normally his favorite class, today it deteriorated into "Get to Know Heero Better" class. While Quatre didn't begrudge his brother his fame, it got very irritating when—during Quatre's absolute, most favorite class _ever—_all eyes were riveted on Heero, fascinated. Including Professor Snape's, who had declared that his "love for Heero was like the sun, every burning, ever passionate" at the beginning of class.

This morning at breakfast—hell, this morning _before _breakfast—people's reactions to Heero caused Quatre to get mildly annoyed. Harry practically salivated at the sight of his own brother. To tell the truth, so had Quatre, before he remembered to take his _Cassus libinus_. So he sympathized with the way the people around Heero felt. But really, that was no excuse to stop class. Hormones could be overcome!

And Professor Snape, at least, would have, if Heero hadn't touched him. But Heero _had _touched him, and now Professor Snape was the worst of the lot. At the beginning of class, after declaring his love for Heero, Professor Snape had erased the notes for a new potion off the board and announced that today would be a question and answer session from Heero. Quatre could almost see the pink hearts floating above his head. It was all very nauseating. Thankfully, it was temporary, but it was still repulsive in the interim.

Quatre sat with Harry at the back of the class as Heero was asked every irrelevant question under the sun by every idiot in the class that was so miraculously, spontaneously _in love_ with Quatre's baby brother.

"How old are you?" _Seventeen, but I'll turn eighteen in the summer. _"What is your favorite color?" _Violet because someone very dear to me has violet eyes. _"What kind of music do you like?" _Mostly old Muggle stuff, pre-colony. But the Weird Sisters are great, too. And the Furies. _"Will you go out with me?" _I'm sorry, but I'm unavailable. I have someone I love very much, if he'll take me back. _"Aww, anyone would want you Heero." That was followed by a chorus of "yeah"s and "uh huh"s. Then the questions began again. "What's your family like, Heero?" _I have a large extended family. My mom has almost as many siblings as she does children. And they have more kids than her, on average. Two of my brothers mean the world to me—they're the closest to me in age. Two of my cousins feel more like siblings to me than most of my real brothers and sisters—and Milly's wife is very close to me, too. I really don't know the others that well._

The questions went on and on. Heero answered every one with the truth, a partial truth, or a complete lie. Sometimes Quatre couldn't tell which it was. When asked about his dad, Heero replied that he was dead, which Quatre knew to be a lie, but he said it so sincerely that Quatre almost believed him. But no matter whose question he was answering or what he was saying, Heero looked at Duo. His eyes never wavered, and Duo's eyes never met his. It was enough to royally piss off Quatre.

"So, why is everybody acting like this?" Harry asked, drawing Quatre away from his brooding. Wednesday morning, after they had made the One Week contract, Quatre and Heero had given Harry an open question policy. He could ask them for any information, and they would give it, providing that they knew it. In Quatre's opinion, Harry abused the policy. In a little over two days, Harry already knew about Quatre's and Heero's involvement in the Muggle war, Duo's and Heero's ex-relationship, and Quatre's and Heero's history of drinking Booamyie, eating Bellarmees, and dancing the night away.

Today, Harry's question couldn't come at a worse time. Quatre wanted to brood. But he was bound by his word to give Harry at least a _partial _explanation. So explain he did. In graphic detail.

"So," Harry said after Quatre's long-winded explanation, of which none of their classmates took notice, "every month, on the day before the full moon, Heero gives off a scent much like a werewolf's during that time. But because he is a Vanuli and not a werewolf, his scent will attract both males _and _females of practically every species with which he comes into contact. _And _he also feels this drive, this need to copulate, but because, in his mind, he was already mated, he was able to fight it before. But since his "mate"—namely one Duo Maxwell—is less than three feet away from him, he may lose control and attack Maxwell, thus disappointing every other person in this room."

"That's pretty much it," Quatre said before going back to watching Heero watch Duo. "Except that Heero would never—_could _never—hurt Duo, so he's resorted to crude seduction techniques. By the looks of things, it's working."

"What are you talking about?" Harry said, clearly bewildered at Quatre's statement. "Maxwell hasn't looked at Heero for the entire class."

"Come here," Quatre said, waving Harry over to stand directly behind him. "Now look at Duo." Harry did so, and Quatre could tell when he saw it because of the gasp of surprise he let out. 

"It reflects," Harry said, meaning the storage cabinet that Duo had been staring at the entire time. "He could see Heero, has in fact, been _staring_ at him all along."

"Yup," Quatre responded. "I guess Heero's better at that seduction thing than even _he _knows."

"I reckon so," Harry said, sitting down behind Quatre, arm slung over his shoulder. "Guess we'll have to let Heero know, right?" Harry smiled at Quatre.

"Oh, yeah," Quatre said. 

_I guess this day's not **so **bad, after all,_ Quatre thought as he and his estranged brother continued to talk for the rest of the period. _As long as I can get Harry to agree not to tell Heero about Duo._

Selune


	14. The Lust

Disclaimer: I do not own any things Harry Potter—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to the wonderful J. K. Rowling and whomever else she decides. I do not own anything Gundam Wing—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to (I think) Bandai and Sunrise.

Spoilers: This fic contains spoilers for books 1-5 of Harry Potter and all of the episodes of Gundam Wing. This fic does not include Endless Waltz.

Rating: R

Pairings: Neville/Harry, 2x1

Summary: Two years ago, the One Year War ended. At this time, the five heroes—the Gundam pilots—disappeared from the Muggle world. Three of them—pilots 02, 03, and 05—reappeared shortly after in the Wizarding world, as students at Hogwarts School of Witchraft and Wizardry. Now, twenty months after the fact, Heero Yuy and Quatre Winner are coming to Hogwarts, and they're bringing all of their secrets with them. The world—especially one Harry Potter—will never be the same.

Peace, Love, and Family: 

The Story of the Vanuli Three

Chapter 13: The Lust

_This must be so hard for him, _Harry thought as he sat down next to the "him" in question. Quatre was trying to console him, hugs and whispered words and such, all to no avail. Harry longed to comfort Heero, too, but he held himself back. He didn't know the details of Heero's life, didn't grow up with him. He had no place in Heero's grief, and he was determined to stay out of it. Then, Heero whimpered on Quatre's shoulder—a high, keening sound that should have grated on Harry's nerves but didn't—and Harry threw his determination out the window. He threw his arms around Heero and Quatre, encompassing them both in a bone-crushing hug.

"I-I didn't want to leave him," Heero said as he transferred his head to where Harry's arm met Quatre's neck. He sobbed even harder as Harry began rubbing circles on his back. "I-I always have to _leave _him, and I never want to!"

Harry's eyes met Quatre's over Heero's head. The helplessness that Harry felt was mirrored in Quatre's eyes. Neither knew how to effectively comfort Heero—not unless they stole Maxwell from whichever class he was currently in and brought him here. And they couldn't very well do that. It was uncouth and rude.

"Shh," Harry said as he put his head atop Heero's. "It'll be okay. You'll see. You can see him again at lunch." Harry continued to rub Heero's back when Quatre started singing. He lay his head on Heero's next to Harry's, and the most beautiful words imaginable came out of his mouth.

"Samenaa, mur on malaia. Soo amadaya malaia, nai ya malaia," Quatre sang. The words pierced Harry's brain, and amazingly, he understood them. He didn't know _how _he knew them, only that he did. _Child of love, gone from your family. Denied your duty to us, your family, and left to make a new family with your lover. _After a few verses, Harry joined Quatre in singing. After a few more, Heero joined in. Their voices rose and descended in perfect synchrony, in perfect harmony with one another.

Harry didn't know how long they sang—to him, it felt like mere seconds—but when he opened his eyes, which he didn't remember closing, the entire class was staring at them. Dean and Seamus were swaying slightly in their seats, their eyes glazed over, unblinking. Ron and Hermione were similarly entranced, seeming to snap out of it only when the singing stopped. Neville looked on attentively—even after the song was over—and Lavendar and Parvati were attempting to mouth along with the unfamiliar words. Even Remus—Professor Lupin—was caught up in the mood.

When the trance was broken and the wonderful, beautiful singing stopped, Harry was relieved to find that Heero had stopped crying. He smiled up at Quatre and Harry, a soft "thanks" on his lips as he moved to let Quatre have the seat they were sitting in. Heero smiled at the two of them as he sat beside Quatre, and that alone was enough to make Harry's heart flutter. He was happy.

Thankfully, according to Quatre, no one would _really_ remember what happened today when they were around Heero. Not if they didn't take the _Cassus libinus_, the pill Quatre made him take before breakfast. One effect of the werewolf's Lust was to make everything that happened around him seem hazy and unreal. Tomorrow, everyone except for Dorothy, Quatre, and Harry wouldn't be sure if what they remembered actually happened. Today would be like a dream. There, but not.. As long as Heero didn't dance naked on a table while singing "I'm a Little Tea Pot," motions included, then everything should be fine.

***

Heero was dancing on a table. To be more specific, he was dancing on the Gryffindor table in the Great Hall. He hadn't _meant _to do it, of this Harry was sure. But still... He was dancing on a table! Even fully clothed in his Amenea robe—which was, to say, barely at all—this was something people were bound to remember. It was a rule somewhere, Harry was sure.

He tried to look away from Heero's graceful movements—_step over the pudding, twirl, stomp the foot, clap the hands, once, twice, thrice, twirl again—_but he found that he couldn't. Heero's movements were enticing, and Harry found himself longing to join in the dance—_start the singing, "Samenaai, mur on malaia," twirl again, **jump** to the Ravenclaw table, directly between Chang's and Patil's plates—_but he knew he shouldn't. It could be dangerous, joining in this Amenea of unthinking, star-crossed love. _"I will leave my family and start a new one. With you, my lover. We will be married, just us two. You and I."_

A hand grasping his shoulder was Harry's only indication that he had risen from his seat. He looked down to find himself standing, poised to climb onto the table, and Quatre by his side, holding him from the Dance, the Song, the Amenea. He tried to plead with Quatre, to _beg_ him—_faster now, the movements speed up, the song no longer words but mere vocalizations, "Ah a ah a ah a ah," a frenzy, twirl the head, swing the hips, fall to the knees and pound the fists—_but he would not relent.

"I want to dance, too," Quatre said, now clenching Harry's fists as he tried to get away from the Sensible One, the Logical One, the Unfeeling, Undancing Unsinging One! "We need to keep our heads on straight and our feet flat on the ground. We shouldn't call excessive attention to ourselves."

_Flash of hips and butt as the Amenea robe curls away, smile and crawl, a shake of hips, a tickle of foot, a tinkle of metal. **Jump**, carried by the wind, to the beloved. Dance, Sing again, "Mono aya, mur on malaia." For you, I will leave my family. "Mono aya, mur on alee." For you, I will give up my destiny. "Mono ayai, mur on amay." For you, I will be gone from life._

"Oh, fuck that. Let's dance," Quatre said, releasing Harry's arms with a scowl on his face. Harry scramble away from Quatre, afraid that it was a joke, and he would—as soon as Harry began the Amenea—clamp onto him again and not let go. "But first," And there it was, Quatre was brandishing his wand, going to tie him to the chair or something, "_Somaiyee Amenea_!"

Harry felt a slight breeze as the spell hit him. He knew why, though, as he found himself wearing robes similar to Heero's with enough jewelry hanging from his arms and ankles to make a metal-detector explode. It was Quatre's blessing, and Harry thanked him for it as he climbed to the table and danced. Out of the corner of his eye, he saw Quatre do the same.

***

Heero hadn't _meant _to dance. He really hadn't. But when he saw Duo from across the room, he had been overcome by the urge, the _need _to express his true feelings. And so, he danced. He danced the lover's side of the tale, whereas earlier, he and his brothers sang the family's side. He dipped and turned, twirled and whirled, all the while being careful not to touch anyone or anything. He danced all the way to Duo, then he stopped. Two inches from Duo's face he hovered, body crouched low over his food.

Duo pushed his chair back, and Heero took that as the invitation he was looking for. He slinked onto Duo's lap, his robe ruffling, and his anklet tinkling all the way. Heero breathed deep the musky smell of Duo as he ghosted over his lap, hovering but never quite touching. Duo's hands rose to clasp Heero's hips, and that signalled the start of Heero's Dance. The Lust and the Amenea took over, filling his senses with want, need, beg, plead, lust, love, sensual, sexual, and an urge to take, claim, maim what was _his_.

Heero grabbed Duo's shoulders and began the private lover's Amenea. Heero rose up, heeding the urge to lick Duo's neck and mark it as his own. He ran his hands down Duo's robed chest, the heat from his clothed flesh sending a spark from Heero's fingertips to his groin. He sang as his hips rotated across Duo's lap, occasionally rubbing his spot and bringing a groan to his lips. "Amadayai, mur oni. Mur ayai amadayai." _My love, I won't leave you. I love you, my forever lover._

Heero panted. Duo grunted. Heero groaned. Duo moaned. And still Heero danced. Still, he sang. "Seain setae. Mono surra surra soe." Heero threw his head back on the last word, and Duo attacked his neck.

The heat moved between them. Heero could feel Duo's tongue on his pulse, lapping at the salty skin. Heero gripped Duo's back, hands clutching rhythmically at the tight muscles. Duo grabbed onto Heero's hips, stilling his gyrations, and forced him to settle fully on Duo's lap. When Heero touched fully Duo's hardened cock, he stilled. The Lust ran through them both.

Heero looked at Duo, his eyes lidded and his body afire. Duo looked back, the same heat burning in his eyes. As one, they rose from the chair, Heero's legs and arms wrapped around Duo for support. They ran from the Great Hall, their Lustful needs rising with every step.

***

Harry was dancing. He and his brother, twirling and whirling over the table together. Music played form somewhere, and they danced to its orders. Harry held onto Quatre as they danced their way over food and plates and hands. It was amazing, this dance. This Amenea.

He felt so close to Quatre, as they danced to the song the three of them sang earlier. The family's version of the song Heero was singing. _Don't leave us. He's not worth your love. We love you more than he ever could._

The song ended on that note, and Harry's twirling came to an end. He looked around—dazed and exhausted—to find, to his surprise, that neither Maxwell nor Heero were in the Great Hall. Harry let go of Quatre's shoulder and turned around to see if they were on the other side of the room. They weren't.

"What happened?" Harry asked to no one in particular. He scratched his head.

"I don't know, mate, but I'm sure we can figure it out better once you come down off the table."

Harry jumped at the voice before looking down. "Oh, hi, Ron," he said, waving meekly. "Help me down?"

As Harry—and Quatre—climbed down from the Gryffindor table, Harry couldn't help but think, _Well, we weren't **naked** while dancing on the tables, but this is most likely something no one will forget._

***CENSORED***

w w w . l i v e j o u r n a l . s e l u n e 2 / 4 3 2 8 . h t m l

***CENSORED***

Harry looked around nervously at the people who, supposedly, had no memory of what just happened. He had a hard time believing that so many people—Professor Dumbledore included—could be _Obliviated_ at one time. It wasn't that he didn't trust in Dorothy's and Quatre's magic. After all, he did see her _Obliviate _the entire Slytherin house just the other day, and he had every reason to believe that Quatre was just as powerful, if not more so. It was just that Harry didn't believe that _he _was strong enough to help in casting a charm on the entirety of Hogwarts. He also didn't believe his luck that it, apparently, worked.

Harry sat down by Neville and Quatre, once again clothed in an appropriate school robe, and began to eat his mashed potatoes. He wasn't able to eat during the first part of lunch, and now, with only fifteen minutes left, he was _starving_.

***

Heero blinked wearily at the one who intruded on his and Duo's little love nest. Professor Lupin. Harry's replacement godfather and all around pain in the ass. "What?" Heero asked, raising up a hand to wipe the sweat out of his eyes. Well, he tried to. Duo was in his way.

"I said, 'What the fuck is going on here?'" Lupin repeated. He advanced into the room and shut the door behind him, effectively obscuring them from the view of the general populace.

"We're sleeping," Heero said, bringing up his free hand to lovingly push Duo's hair out of his face. He glared at Professor Lupin. "At least, we're _trying _to sleep. I was almost there when someone rudely interrupted me."

"I'm afraid that I'm going to have to interrupt you some more," Lupin said. He threw Heero's robe at him, which fell onto Duo when Heero didn't catch it. "Wake him up. We need to be out of here by the time class starts. In less than thirty minutes."

Heero scowled but tried to rouse Duo. The last thing he wanted was for everyone and their little sister to see him and Duo in nothing but their birthday suits. Duo wouldn't wake up. He was dead to the world. Heavier than Heero remembered, too, so he couldn't just roll Duo off. Heero struggled, trying to get his lover either up or off, to no avail. Eventually, after Heero was sure he sprained something in his labor, Professor Lupin bothered to help and easily pulled Duo off Heero, waking him up in the process.

"Ugh," Duo said, ever so eloquently, as he was being pulled to his feet.

He looked sexy and debauched, standing there with his pants around his ankles and his robe open all the way down, exposing the cock Heero loved so much. Heero unconsciously licked his lips at the picture. Duo wasn't quite as happy as Heero. He quickly pulled up his pants, much to Heero's disappointment.

"What the fuck is going on here!" Duo said, echoing their teacher's previous question. Duo's eyes searched the room, and when they fell on Heero, they hardened into violet diamonds. "Oh, you. I should have known _you _would be involved in this somehow. Whenever anything goes wrong, you're always involved somehow." Duo tried to storm out of the door, but Heero got there first.

"I can't let you leave like this," Heero said. "I just can't."

"What?" Duo asked, his hands balling into fists. "Can I not leave without a goodbye kiss first? What more do you want from me, Yuy? Just leave me alone!" 

Duo turned away from Heero at that. He couldn't even look at him, and for the first time, Heero knew how much he had hurt Duo. 

"Okay," Heero said, moving so that Duo could pass by. He grabbed onto Duo's forearm as he made to go. "Just promise me one thing, Duo. Please? Can we talk about this, soon? I need to clear the air. There is so much you need to know."

Duo nodded, and Heero knew that was all he was going to get from him now.

"So, Professor Lupin, what did you want?" Heero asked, forcing a smile on his face. He bounced in place as he surreptitiously wiped the tears from his eyes.

"I need to talk to you," Professor Lupin said, graciously ignoring Heero's burst of emotion, "about the Lust."

To say Heero was surprised would have been the understatement of the year. To say he would have been less surprised had both Dr. J and Voldemort appeared before him in tutus, dancing to music from the _Nutcracker_, and expounding on the Absolute Pacifism that cousin Relena used to believe in, would also have been an understatement, albeit much closer to how he was feeling than the first. To say he should have know that Professor Lupin would know exactly what Heero was going through, given that he was a werewolf and _not _a complete idiot, well, that would have been absolutely true. Heero didn't deal in truths, though, he dealt in happy thoughts where people loved him and no one was trying to kill his family and no one was sick and everyone was happy. So of course, he was completely unprepared for this turn of events and the only thing he could think to say was, "Okay. Lead the way."

Professor Lupin did "lead the way," after Heero put his robe back on. All the way to his office, on the second floor. When they got there, Professor Lupin bade Heero to take a seat while he locked the door.

"Heero, I bet you're wondering why I wanted to talk to you about such a sensitive topic," Professor Lupin said after sitting down in a seat across from Heero.

"Not really sir," Heero said. He hadn't. He just wanted to know what Lupin wanted in order to ensure his silence about the matter. "I just want to know what you want in order to ensure your silence on the matter."

Professor Lupin laughed. He _laughed _at _Heero_. "Mr. Yuy, I don't want anything from you except for knowledge. I just want to know what you are. I don't believe that you're werewolf. You certainly don't smell like one, not completely, anyway. You smell a bit like one, but only in the sense of a human who spends a lot of time around one. So I don't think you're a wolf. I can't be sure, but that's my belief. 

"However," Professor Lupin continued, "if you aren't were, what are you? You certainly display many attributes of an unmated werewolf cub, at least as it relates to the moon cycle. I've been watching you,"

Here, Heero sat up straight to listen. If Lupin had been watching him, who knew how much he might know? He could know everything and expose his family for what they were. Heero would not let that happen. No one must know that the triplets were reunited. No one!

"And I've noticed some odd things about you, Heero Yuy. For the last week, you seem to show brief bouts of rambunctious play, followed by deep depressions, usually after you catch sight—or possibly smell—of one Mr. Maxwell. Then, today, you exhibit the Lust, something that, before, I would have said was exclusive to the werewolves. Then, of course, you happened to catch Mr. Maxwell—and apparently, mate with him—but he didn't seem to be too fond with the idea afterwards. This leads me to believe that it was solely the Lust and nothing but the Lust—on your part, then transferred to him—that caused the mating. This disagrees with everything I've ever learned about werewolf mating. We only mate during the Lust with those we love who love us back. The Lust will only end then, but yours has ended. But surely, I digress. The point is, I can't figure you out, and unless I do, I'm going to Professor Dumbledore with my findings."

"No!" Heero yelled. He jumped out of his seat and ran to Professor Lupin. "Please. You can't tell anyone!"

"Why?" Professor Lupin asked, rising from his chair, grabbing onto Heero's arms and shaking him furiously. "What are you? How can have such traits as these and _not _be wolf? Please, tell me!"

Heero wrenched from the professor's grasp and fell to the floor. Sometime during the altercation, he began to cry. "Do you want to know what I am?" Heero asked. Professor Lupin nodded his head vigorously. _Fine_, Heero thought, _if that's the only way to get him off my back, I'll tell him. But not everything. No, no human will ever know everything about us. _"I'm an intermediary." At the look of surprise on Professor Lupin's face, Heero smirked. Heero could almost feel the thought bubble in his head, _But they're just legends_. "I take on many aspects of a werewolf during the lunar cycle, so that those for whom I am an intermediary don't have to. I also take on the ability to control their beasts. Because of me, my puppies can enjoy their wolf form without the fear of killing someone, and they don't need to be sick all the time, as with the Wolfsbane potion. _And _I get ruthless bodyguards who will do anything to protect me."

"But how? Why?" Professor Lupin asked, offering a hand to Heero to help him up. "Do you need protection so bad that you are willing to take such a risk as that?"

"I'm a very Gifted chid, Professor," Heero said, taking the proffered hand. "There are those out there who would try to take it for themselves."

"Professor Dumbledore would protect you," Professor Lupin said. He sounded as if he actually believed it.

"Professor Dumbledore would try," Heero replied. "I'd rather have an ace up my sleeve, if it's all the same to you."

"If it's all the same to you, could I help be your ace?" Professor Lupin asked. "I've always wanted to be free of that potion."

Heero looked into his professor's eyes. What he saw there convinced him to consent. "Yes, Professor. I'll help you, if you'll help me."

The wearied professor said he would, and so Heero did.

Selune


	15. Baying of the Hounds

Disclaimer: I do not own any things Harry Potter—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to the wonderful J. K. Rowling and whomever else she decides. I do not own anything Gundam Wing—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to (I think) Bandai and Sunrise.

Spoilers: This fic contains spoilers for books 1-5 of Harry Potter and all of the episodes of Gundam Wing. This fic does not include Endless Waltz.

Rating: R

Pairings: Neville/Harry, 2x1

Summary: Two years ago, the One Year War ended. At this time, the five heroes—the Gundam pilots—disappeared from the Muggle world. Three of them—pilots 02, 03, and 05—reappeared shortly after in the Wizarding world, as students at Hogwarts School of Witchraft and Wizardry. Now, twenty months after the fact, Heero Yuy and Quatre Winner are coming to Hogwarts, and they're bringing all of their secrets with them. The world—especially one Harry Potter—will never be the same.

Peace, Love, and Family: 

The Story of the Vanuli Three

Chapter 14: Baying of the Hounds

_Where am I? _Heero jerked up, startled by his new surroundings. His heart beat wildly. He couldn't see _anything_. Heero groped blindly in the dark, searching for some clue as to where he was. His hands rubbed over a smooth, tight surface, and Heero sighed in relief. Quatre. And Harry, entwined with him. _I must be in bed._

Heero couldn't remember getting to bed. He couldn't remember much about yesterday. It was understandable—he had been under the influence of the Lust. The Lust was remembered by no one. Not even those to whom it happened. It was no big deal. He would just get Quatre, Harry, and Dorothy to piece together his hazy memories—_panting, groaning, twirling, grinding—_into comprehensible puzzle pieces. It wouldn't make a complete puzzle, but Heero could live with it. He always did.

What really confused Heero was that the Lust was over sooner than usual. Heero knew—even without looking outside—that the full moon hadn't occurred yet. He would feel it if it was. The moon would be a part of him, and he would be a part of his wolves. They would be intertwined as one, together. But they weren't. Heero was just Heero.

He would figure it out later—it hurt his head to think about it now.

Heero's eyes were beginning to adjust to the darkness, and when he looked down, determined to not think about anything stressful, his breath caught. Harry and Quatre lay snuggled next to each other on the pillows, their limbs entangled in a lovers' embrace. Heero longed to throw open the curtains and let the moonlight shine down on them. But he didn't. He couldn't risk having someone see them like that. Harry would never forgive him if Neville saw the pretty picture he and Quatre were making. 

Instead, Heero summoned a Fury Orb. It was a muted yellow sphere that came from inside Heero. It was a staple of the Vanuli species, the Fury Orb. They were named Fury because one usually did not summon one until he was very angry. The Fury Orbs would become Fury Shooters when the Vanuli was angry, and they would _shoot_ across vast distances, entering the enemy and stealing their magic. Fury Shooters were very dangerous and were the Vanuli's chief weapon. But Heero wasn't mad at the moment, and the Fury Shooter was just a Fury Orb, just a pretty glowing bauble. Heero sent it to the top of the canopy and let it glow down on him and his brothers. It mimicked the moon almost perfectly.

With the fake moon illuminating his brothers, Heero scooted down beside them to watch. And think.

Heero loved his brothers—emotional Malal, and tempestuous Nelat, and he, himself, the lusty Imela. In just a few short days, Harry had gained a place in Heero's heart equal to Quatre's. He knew that he and Quatre were growing on Harry, too. They completed each other, the Three. His dark was Harry's light was Quatre's neutral. Together, the three of them would be better than anyone else on this planet or above. This Heero knew.

Content in his musings, Heero lay his head on Harry's flat stomach. The gentle inhalations and exhalations of his breath lulled Heero into a light slumber. And under the light of the Orb—that sometimes gentle trinket, sometimes ferocious weapon—he fell deeper.

Quatre awoke exactly on schedule. It was time for him and Heero to leave the bed. For the past couple of weeks, he and his baby brother switched out on who would be the first to wake up, so their dormmates wouldn't catch them sleeping in Harry's bed. Technically speaking, today was Heero's turn, but with him being somewhat out of commission, Quatre thought it best if he do the waking. And he was glad he did because otherwise he would not be able to see such a sight as the one before him.

Harry lay almost completely on Quatre. His legs lay between Quatre's, and his arm curled up around Quatre's head, almost holding it in place. Heero lay on Harry's stomach, halfway between belly button and nipples. His hand reached above him and tangled with Harry's. They were enshrouded by light, which alarmed Quatre until he found its source. The Fury Orb—Heero's, most likely, because Harry didn't know about them yet—illuminated his brothers, making them appear most like the fey for which their clan was named.

Quatre stared for a moment, awestruck before snapping out of it. He shook his brothers, rousing them. Their sleepy faces raised, and Quatre was rewarded for his efforts at keeping their secret with twin glares. At once, they both let their heads drop back to their "pillows"—namely, Quatre, and indirectly, Quatre again—and let out simultaneous groans. Their pitch, tone, and rhythm were all synchronized. Quatre suspected they practiced it.

"Dun wanna gerrup," Heero said into Harry's chest. Quatre translated that as, "I know I need to wake up, but I don't want to. Would you please be so kind as to wake my ass up?"

"Ditto," Harry said, lifting his hand to wipe at his nose. The movement caused Heero to lose his position on Harry, which in turn caused Harry to tumble from Quatre.

"Well, you're going to have to," Quatre said, raising up on his elbows. "Even Fate thinks you should."

"But it's only seven," Harry protested.

"On a Saturday!" Harry whined.

"Can't we sleep just a _bit _longer?" they pleaded, both looking at him with the biggest, shiniest eyes Quatre ever saw outside of an anime.

"Well, okay," Quatre relented. Both of his little brothers cheered—quietly—for him. "_If_ you want everyone else to be out and about when we finally decide to crawl out of bed. I mean, just because _anyone_ could see us getting out of your bed—like Neville, perhaps—and within fifteen minutes it would be all over school—I've heard gossip travels like lightning in Slytherin—that Harry Potter and the new transfers were having a threesome... Well, that's just something we'll have to live with. After all, it's worth it for a few extra hours of sleep."

"Urgh," Heero growled at him, but he rolled over to let Harry up. Harry snarled, too, but he peeked out of the curtains to see if anyone else in the room was awake.

"Coast's clear," Harry said, and they all climbed out of bed.

Quatre stretched, long and limber, as he got out of bed. Heero absorbed the Fury Orb back into his body. And as one, they went to take a shower.

Harry was getting in some much-needed Neville time. What with everything that was going on—namely two disturbances that Harry couldn't seem to find fault with—he didn't get to spend as much time with his boyfriend and his best friends as he would like to. So, after informing Heero of his version of yesterday's events, he left to find Neville. After he left Neville, Harry was going to seek out Ron and Hermione and force them to hang out with him. Later tonight, he would meet back up with Quatre to wait out the full moon. Apparently, they weren't capable of helping Heero with his duties. But for now, he was with Neville and would enjoy it.

"Harry. Hey, Harry," Neville said, waving a hand in front of Harry's face.

Harry blinked and smiled at Neville. He took his hand, and they continued on the way to Greenhouse 4. "I'm here, Nev."

"Sorry," Neville said. His palm was sweaty in Harry's palm, and he stumbled over his words. "It's just that you looked so far away, I mean, and I was just wondering, maybe... Well, what were you thinking?"

Harry stopped in his tracks, causing Neville to stop as well. "I was just thinking how happy I am," Harry said He reached up to push a lock of Neville's hair behind his ear. He let his hand rest there. "And how much I want you to kiss me."

"Wha-what? Here? Now? Where everyone can see?" Neville asked. He tried to step back and lean into Harry's touch, both at once.

"Well, yes," Harry said. He steeped closer to Neville, their bodies flush against one another. "I want everyone to know that we're together. That way, they won't try to get you, thinking you're single."

"Harry," Neville said. The way he said it sent chills down Harry's spine, and he unconsciously licked his lips. Neville twitched. "Harry, I don't think you have to worry about anyone trying to take me from you. I'm probably the only one in this relationship who has to worry about boyfriend snatchers. After all, you're so gorgeous. And you're Harry Bloody Potter. And anyone with one eye and half a brain can tell you're the most desirable thing on—"

Harry kissed Neville, tired of his self-deprecating, Harry-worshipping babble. He rose onto his tiptoes to get a better grip on Neville's neck. Harry gasped when Neville—for almost the first time, in Harry's experience—took the initiative and grabbed Harry's ass, raising him off the ground. They kissed, their tongues twining around each other, until Neville's arms gave out, and he released Harry. Harry dropped to the ground softly. He didn't have very far to go, so he actually landed on his feet.

"If anyone knew how good you kiss," Harry said, breathless, his lips red and plump, "I would be fighting them off you with a stick. And don't you think I wouldn't, Neville Longbottom." Harry poked Neville in the stomach. "I don't like it when you talk down on yourself. So don't do it, 'kay?"

Neville nodded, looking suitably abashed. "Okay, I'll try."

Harry knew that was the best he was going to get at the moment, so he took it and ran. "So, didn't you tell me you had work to do? And that I could watch?"

Neville blushed—most likely because of the decidedly lecherous look Harry was giving him—but he led the way to Greenhouse 4. He didn't get much work done.

Heero lay curled around one of Quatre's pillows, drowsily tracing hearts on it. He lounged there and thought, waiting for Quatre to speak up. Earlier, Harry filled Heero in on what happened yesterday. Now it was Quatre's turn. Heero wasn't really sure he wanted to know any more—who would want to, after doing a full-out Amenea in the middle of the Great Hall?—but he knew he should. Even if Quatre didn't tell him anything new, hearing it would help solidify the hazy images floating around in his mind. It helped him remember that the dreamlike pictures he remembered were actually real.

"So, have you become a mime, or are you going to tell me about all of the naughty things I did yesterday?" Heero asked. He let go of the pillow and playfully pushed Quatre.

"Well, if you _insist_, I supposed I must," Quatre said, sighing dramatically. He rolled onto his back and stared up at the top of the canopy, leaning slightly into Heero when he reached down to pet his hair. Quatre lived up to his nickname, purring just like a kitten.

"So, what happened?" Heero said when Quatre was thoroughly disoriented. Quatre was always most truthful when he was relaxed. He didn't try to shield Heero near as much then. Heero knew that Quatre kept things from him—and sometimes did things to him—to keep him from being hurt. Heero understood Quatre's reasons for doing so, but he still made sure Quatre was completely forthcoming of all the facts as much as he was possibly able. Getting Quatre relaxed was a sure way to ensure his truthfulness.

"Umm," Quatre said, rubbing his head on Heero's hand. He let out a loud purr, and Heero moved his hand to scratch at his brother's Adam's apple. "Like Harry said—ooh, right there—you came down in your—_rurr—_Amenea robe. You touched Snape—that's good—and made him love you. It should be over by—umm—now." Heero straddled Quatre and began one of his world famous—at least among the Vanuli—massages. "He made you talk about yourself—uhh!—in Potions. Why did you say your father was—_rurr—_dead? I thought he was—oh, yes, that's nice—alive. Then in Defense, the three of us—_rurr—_sang the Malaia song. It was wonderful. Harry joined in—umm—just like a normal brother. During lunch, you danced the Amadaya Amenea. Harry and I danced the—_rurr—_Malaia. When we stopped, you and Duo were—uhh—gone. We didn't see you again until after—_rurr—_dinner. You had a note with—umm—you, and you were crying. It was a happy sort of crying, though."

Heero let go of Quatre and rolled off him. He didn't remember any not. Which didn't say much, seeing as how he didn't remember any of yesterday without a refresher course on it. "Where is it?" he asked.

Quatre looked over at him—the disappointment at the loss of his massage showing clearly in is eyes—and pointed to Heero's bed. "You put it and your robe on your bed, so no one would bother it."

Heero jumped out of Quatre's bed and sprinted to his own. He wanted to see exactly what was on that note. The only person, exempting his family, that could make Heero cry and be happy at the same time was Duo. So unless Relena wrote to say that she was engaged or Milliardo wrote to tell him that Lucy wasn't mad anymore, it must be from Duo—and it obviously wasn't from Lena or Milly because Heero would have shown the note to Quatre if it had been.

Heero jumped on his bed and looked for it. His Amenea robe took up the entire bed, obscuring the note from view. He crawled about on his robe—trying to be careful and not rip it—while frantically searching.

_Where is it? _Heero thought. His eyes roamed over the fabric as his hands did the same, looking and feeling for crinkly off-white instead of indescribable luxury. Heero's eyes fell on the parchment just as his hands ghosted over it. Heero snatched it up and held it gently like it was a newfound treasure—which, hopefully, it was. _Gotcha._

Heero crawled onto his pillows, revelling in the feel of his Amenea robe underneath him. Then he banished the beautiful, annoying thing to his trunk. It caused nothing but trouble. If it weren't for that robe, Heero never would have danced on those tables. And he never would have left with Duo... On second thought, Heero decided that his robe was a gift from the gods. But it still had to be put away. It might get torn if it wasn't.

Heero put away all thoughts of robes and dancing and Duo—well, not Duo, there were always thoughts of Duo—and raised his note to read it, sure that it was some long, drawn out love letter from the Duo that Heero was attempting to not think about.

_Owlery, seven, Sunday morning._

That was the entirety of Heero's note. No "I love you." No "please come back to me." Not even a damn "I hate you, you son of a bitch." Duo hadn't even signed it. 

Heero knew it was from Duo, though. It just _had _to be. Who else was there?

"What did he say?" Quatre asked, finally ignoring the rules of propriety and butting in like any good brother should. He knew the note had to be from Duo, if only because it made Heero so happy. Last night, anyway. Today, Heero didn't look so happy. He had his bottom lip between his teeth, like he always did when he was thinking hard.

"Here." Heero handed the note to Quatre. Quatre read it.

_Owlery, seven, Sunday morning._

Duo wanted Heero to meet him. Duo wanted Heero to meet him at seven a.m. Sunday morning in the goddamn Owlery after he didn't sleep a wink Saturday night and would probably be too tired and disoriented to fight back. And Heero would go. Anything Duo wanted, he got.

"You're going to go, aren't you?" Quatre asked a little more harshly than he liked. He was always being mean to his little brothers, biting their heads off and such. But it was his job to keep Heero and Harry safe. How was he supposed to do so if he couldn't even voice his opinions at their past, present, or future actions?

"Yeah," Heero said, snatching back the note as soon as Quatre let it drop within reach. "He deserves that, at least. He deserves so much more than that, don't you think?"

Quatre, in fact, didn't, but he didn't say so. He didn't say anything, hoping that his silence would get his opinion across to Heero. Heero rarely listened to Quatre's voiced opinions, anyway.

Quatre didn't hate Duo. Not really. Back in the war, Duo was a good friend of Quatre's. So Quatre had to, at least, like Duo a little bit. Quatre didn't hate Duo, the person. He hated the power that Duo held over Heero. He could hurt Heero in so many ways, and Heero would come back for more. Duo could laugh at Heero, spit at him, ignore him, hit him, and Heero would still love him. Duo could even rape or try to kill him, and Heero would return to him. _That _was why Quatre hated Duo. He had the power to break Heero, and he didn't even know it. But as soon as he found out, he might use it, just because he could.

"You should rest," Quatre said. He pressed a kiss to the top of Heero's bed and pushed him back into the pillows. "The sun sets soon."

Quatre left after he saw Heero's eyes fall closed. There was nothing more he could do.

Surprisingly, Harry had found Ron in the library. Alone. Without Hermione. Harry had joined him, and they'd proceeded to "study"—meaning, they played Exploding Snap—stopping only when Madam Pince glared at them after a particularly loud explosion.

"I've missed you," Harry said once they settled into actual studying.

"Really?" Ron said, raising his eyes from his book. He bit his lip and wouldn't look at Harry. "I'm sorry, mate. It's just that—"

"—with Neville and my extra _tutoring—_"

"with Hannah up my ass—did I tell you we're dating now?—and Hermione's study schedule, and Quidditch tryouts—"

"—and all this other stuff I've had to do—"

"Well, what I mean to say is—"

"What I'm trying to tell you is—"

"I'm sorry."

"I'm sorry."

Harry laughed when the entire conversation caught up with him. "I'll forgive you if you forgive me," he said.

"Deal," Ron said, laughing along with him. "Just don't let it happen again."

"Okay. And we'll have to tell Hermione. I never see her, either," Harry said. "And what's this about you and Hannah? I'm guessing Abbot, from Hufflepuff?"

Outside the library, Harry could see the sun begin to set.

When the sun set, Heero could feel it in his body. His heart rate increased, his body temperature rose, his blood boiled at the thought of being able to run, tear, maim, _kill_. Heero's canines lengthened, his body preparing him to become a predator. A howl fierce enough to shake the bed escaped from his lips as the first light of the moon shone on the grounds. Heero's back arched at the strength of the scream. By the time his head touched the pillow, he was inside his wolves' heads, controlling them.

_The Wolf heard the command of its Master, and It ran faster and farther into the forest. It wanted to rip, tear, maim, **kill** with its fellows. It had to bite into the succulent flesh of a rabbit, bird, squirrel. It longed to nestle Its nose in the rib cage of Its dying prey and take in the scent. The smell of death that **It **had caused._

_The Wolf caught the scent of fear, a terrified creature running through the forest. It ran after the Prey, chased the Prey, stalked the Prey. The Prey smelled good, like fear, like food, like blood that would drip down the Wolf's chin so luciously and stick to Its fur, making the scent linger on the Wolf. The Wolf chased, the Wolf ran, the Wolf stalked through trees, over bushes, passed dangerous, bad, poisonous not-food that didn't run or smell like blood and fear._

_The Prey ran from the Wolf, galloping through trees, over bushes, passed dangerous, bad, poisonous not-food that didn't run or smell like blood and fear. The Prey tried to get away, tried to live. The Wolf wouldn't let It. The Wolf leaped—fangs bared—at the Prey, and brought It to the ground. The Wolf opened Its mouth to bit into the Prey, to spill Its blood._

"Vidari," Heero whispered. The taste of blood lingered in his mouth. The promise of food almost too much to give up. But he wouldn't let his puppies kill. Roun would _not _kill Zetoth. Heero prevailed. "Vidari."

_The Wolf's head snapped back. It was in so much pain. The awful, beautiful voice of Its Master hurt It, and It couldn't see. The Wolf tried to rip into the Prey again, but the Master stopped it._

_**No. Stop.**_

_The Wolf, blind from pain, staggered off the Prey. The Wolf could feel the Prey getting to Its feet, leaving, Its food smell getting weaker and weaker. The Wolf tried to follow, but the Master wouldn't allow it. The Master hurt the Wolf. The Master's sounds pierced Its head, making It blind, making It sick._

_The Wolf tried to get up. It tried to follow after the Prey. The pain was too much. The Wolf lay down._

Up in Gryffindor Tower, Heero felt Roun give up. Whispering one last discouragement, he switched to his new acquisition, Remus Lupin. This one should be pretty easy to control, this time, because of the wealth of Wolfsbane in his system.

"Vidari."

Selune


	16. The Past Uncovered, A Gift Discovered

Disclaimer: I do not own any things Harry Potter—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to the wonderful J. K. Rowling and whomever else she decides. I do not own anything Gundam Wing—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to (I think) Bandai and Sunrise.

Spoilers: This fic contains spoilers for books 1-5 of Harry Potter and all of the episodes of Gundam Wing. This fic does not include Endless Waltz.

Rating: R

Pairings: Neville/Harry, 2x1

Summary: Two years ago, the One Year War ended. At this time, the five heroes—the Gundam pilots—disappeared from the Muggle world. Three of them—pilots 02, 03, and 05—reappeared shortly after in the Wizarding world, as students at Hogwarts School of Witchraft and Wizardry. Now, twenty months after the fact, Heero Yuy and Quatre Winner are coming to Hogwarts, and they're bringing all of their secrets with them. The world—especially one Harry Potter—will never be the same.

Peace, Love, and Family: 

The Story of the Vanuli Three

Chapter 15: The Past Uncovered, a Gift Discovered

Quatre was awake when the sun set on Saturday night. Quatre was awake when the full moon rose. Quatre was awake when Heero went into his trance, and he was awake when the first howl was sounded in the distance. Quatre was awake when Harry joined him, long after everyone else had gone to bed. Quatre was awake when Harry lost the battle with sleep and slumped over onto Quatre. Quatre was awake when Heero began whimpering on his bed. Quatre was awake when Heero cried. Quatre was awake when Heero howled, when he growled, when he begged, and when he commanded. Quatre was awake all through the night, watching one brother through the curtains and holding the other in his lap. Quatre was awake when the moon faded and when the sun rose, pink in the sky. Quatre was awake when Heero woke.

Quatre stayed up all through the night for one reason and one reason only—to protect Heero. Ten months ago, when Heero entered into the contract with the werewolves, Quatre vowed not to let Heero get hurt while fulfilling his end of their bargain. With what happened the first time they tried to form an alliance with another species, Quatre was very careful to keep his baby brother safe and sound. Quatre sighed, thinking heavily of Heero's scar and of the Drow to give it to him. Quatre would let nothing of the sort happen again! He would protect Heero—and Harry—with his very life, if need be. And if Quatre felt like Heero was risking too much, or coming too close to falling off that edge, Quatre would pull him out their faster than he could blink.

So Quatre watched him. All through the long, drowsy night. With the sound of snores around him and a warm, soft body on him and a nice, comfy bed under him. Even with Quatre's unending devotion, he wouldn't have been able to get through the night without a little help. It was a good thing that Quatre was so proficient at Potions; otherwise, he would never have been able to make enough _Pervigilo_ to last him through the night. It was basically Coffee With A Kick. A kick in the face that would make a hibernating bear buzz around its cave until April.

Quatre was just starting his last cup—it really tasted like coffee, too, only with a ton of sugar and cream—when he saw Heero stirring on the other bed. Quatre started and tried to rush over to Heero's bed, remembering only at the last minute that Harry was in his lap. Sighing again (because that's what Quatre liked to do), he maneuvered Harry off his lap and completely onto the comforter. Harry snuggled into the bed and grasped lightly at the bedspread. Quatre was overcome with a quiet sense of awe, before snapping out of it and going over to Heero.

"How do you feel?" Quatre asked his littlest brother, smoothing down his hair. It was a mess after all the thrashing Heero did.

"Tired," Heero said, nuzzling into Quatre's hand, "and a little scared. But mostly tired. Can you help me with that?"

Quatre handed Heero his last batch of _Pervigilo_. He could never deny Heero anything. He, no doubt, needed it more than Quatre did, anyway. It took Quatre a moment to figure out why Heero would be scared, but it wasn't long in the coming. _Duo. Heero's meeting with Duo. He better not hurt my baby._

"You know, you don't _have _to meet Duo today," Quatre said in a joking voice. He wasn't joking. Heero needed his rest, even with the _Pervigilo_. "I'm sure Duo would understand you needing to reschedule."

"I can't do that," Heero said. He drank the stimulant in one big gulp. "This could be some kind of test. To see if I'll come, you know. If I don't go, I fail the test. And if I fail, then Duo will say to himself, 'Well, obviously, if Heero doesn't care enough to even _meet_ me, then he doesn't care about putting our relationship back together.' And then, I'll have no chance of getting him back. So I have to go."

Heero got off the bed and went to get dressed. He briefly flashed the room full of sleeping boys when he took off his pajamas. The sight of Heero's scar, once again, mightily pissed off Quatre. So many people tried to hurt his Heero, but he wouldn't let them! Then Heero put on his shirt, so he couldn't see it anymore. He calmed down immensely.

"I'm going to go now," Heero said after he finished getting dressed. He kissed Quatre on the top of the head. "I don't think I'll be too long, but if I am, take it as a good sign."

Quatre grabbed Heero's wrist before he could pull away. "Please, don't go," Quatre begged. "You'll only get hurt, in the end." _I don't want you to get hurt. I don't think I could bear it again._

"I know," Heero said. He gently pried Quatre's hand off his wrist. "No matter what, I'll have to leave him. I just want a little bit more time with him, first."

Quatre nodded and let Heero go without anymore delays. He understood Heero's need to be with Duo, even if it was just for a little while. 

Heero was glad that Quatre let him go without a fuss. He was expecting screaming and yelling and lightning bolts and Quatre wrapping around him like a giant squid, refusing to let go. Heero was nervous enough as it was—he would be terrified if he didn't have, at least, Quatre's partial support. Quatre supported Heero's happiness. Just not his happiness with Duo. It wasn't everything Heero could hope for, but it was all he was going to get. For the moment, anyway. When Heero got Duo back, and they were the epitome of the perfectly happy couple, Quatre might change his mind. Once he saw that Duo wouldn't hurt Heero.

Not likely, but Heero could hope.

Heero knew that Duo loved him. He _had _to—he'd said so. Throughout the course of their very short-lived affair, Duo told Heero over and over again that he loved him. And Duo Maxwell didn't lie. Much. Not about important things like _love_, anyway. So Duo had to love him. He was just hurt.

Heero realized he hurt Duo—in a lot of ways. In the first place, he never, not once, told Duo that he loved him. Not when Duo was awake and aware, anyway. The first and last time that Heero said it aloud to Duo was that last night they were together. Duo had been asleep. 

Secondly, Heero never told Duo what he was. Quatre had insisted that they not tell anyone, not one, single soul, living or dead, and at the time, Heero had agreed. To some extent, he still did. It was too dangerous for them to be "out," so to speak. They had many enemies, just for being who and what they were. There was no telling how many creatures would try to capture them, hurt them, harvest their power, or even try to kill them. In their current state, they were vulnerable to attack. Not _extremely_ vulnerable, but they could be hurt. So Heero understood why they shouldn't just go around telling _everybody _who and what they were. That would be stupid. But telling their friends, who loved them dearly? Heero couldn't see why they couldn't do that. But he promised Quatre and would abide by that promise. He wouldn't tell Duo, even if that was the only possible way to get him back.

The third way, obviously, that Heero hurt Duo was by leaving the night after they first made love. Heero could imagine the pain Duo felt because of that, and he knew his imaginings couldn't be a tenth of what Duo actually felt when he woke up that next morning. By that time, though, the wards in Heero's system had begun to reach critical mass. Dr. J hadn't emptied them in almost a year, and they had been quickly reaching maximum capacity. If they had passed it, even one micromilliter full of magic, then they would have exploded. Heero shuddered to think what would have occurred had _that _happened. Quatre would not have been happy scraping Heero-goo off the ceiling.

But Heero couldn't tell Duo any of that then. Not without explaining everything else. He hadn't had the time then. Heero had meant to write Duo and tell him what was going on—the basics anyway, that he was sick but recovering—but he had been so weak. He wasn't able to do much of anything until his sixteenth birthday party. And he collapsed in the middle of it, just after thinking he had his second wind. By the time Heero was healthy and coherent enough to explain things to Duo, he felt that too much time had passed for him to be forgiven. After all, if Duo was even open to hearing an explanation, he would have contacted Heero somehow. He wasn't that hard to find.

Not that any of that mattered now. Duo wanted to see him, and Heero would tell him everything—well, not the Vanuli thing. Duo would be angry for a little while, but then he would forgive Heero. They would kiss, and everything would be all right between them. They would be the perfect couple again.

Heero sprinted up the last couple of steps to the Owlery. He was early, he knew, but he was too excited to stop himself. Soon, he would have most of his family and his Duo, all in one place. One big, loving family. The only way to make it better would be for Relena, Milliardo, Lucy, and Tashpi to join them. Then all of his family would be together. It would be perfect.

Heero took a deep breath and tried to wipe the grin from his face. It wouldn't do for Duo to get angry with him for something as simple as that, which—according to Harry—he was now prone to do. Heero opened the door to the Owlery, and he didn't have to worry about his grin anymore. His face fell of its own accord, his happiness gone.

There was only one other person in the Owlery.

It wasn't Duo.

It was Daemon Rosencrantz.

Quatre didn't hate Duo. Not really. He didn't even dislike Duo. Quatre just wanted Heero to be happy, and he knew that Heero would never get that through Duo. Not for long, anyway. By the triplet's next birthday, they would either be dead or kings. More correctly, _a_ king. Neither future allowed for a human lover. Heero knew this, but he wouldn't admit it. Heero didn't want to admit to any future without his amadaya. Quatre knew this, and he knew that both Heero and Duo would end up being hurt through any relationship the two of them had.

So Quatre didn't _hate _Duo. He actually felt a little sorry for him. After all, he knew nothing about what was to come. He knew nothing of the Vanuli, nothing of the prophecy, and nothing of Heero's inevitable departure from the human world.

But Quatre couldn't bring himself to feel _too _badly for Duo. After all, Duo could have had a fulfilling long-distance relationship with Heero, had he bothered to pick up pen and paper and write to Heero. He had, to Quatre's knowledge, at least two options to contact Heero—he could have written to the address of Heero's fake" school," or he could have owled Heero to just his name. Quatre and Heero made sure that the address for his school was in fact real—they had bought the plot of land where the address was and activated it for mail service. It took effect one week after they left Earth. And Heero had gotten several owls over the years addressed to just his name. 

So Quatre didn't feel too sorry for Duo. He didn't hate him, didn't love him, didn't dislike him, didn't like him. The only thing Duo was to Quatre was an object of potential happiness, and potential despair, for his little brother. Heero deserved to be happy—he'd had so little cause for joy in his life. As long as Duo made Heero happy, Quatre would attempt to stay out of it. As soon as Heero was unhappy, Quatre would pull the plug on their relationship. Heero had been unhappy for so long, and he deserved to have someone who would do anything for him.

Quatre sat down on Heero's bed, curling the comforter up around him. And that was all his Sight needed—touching something of Heero's while thinking about him. Quatre felt the room around him growing dark, then getting steadily, steadily brighter. He was in the compound. In Heero's body. Talking to himself.

To say that Heero was a little upset at seeing Daemon would be an understatement. To say he was pissed as hell would also be an understatement. To say that, if he could do so with impunity, he would carve out Daemon's entrails with a plastic spork and make him eat them, spork and all, would be closer to the truth. But still an understatement.

"What are you doing here Rosencrantz?" Heero snarled. He advanced on his brother-turned-nemesis. "Go away. I'm meeting someone."

"Yeah. Me," Daemon said, giving Heero a confused look. "You agreed to meet with me. Don't you remember?"

Daemon reached out to Heero, but he was too slow. Heero jumped back, reviled at even the thought of being touched by that traitor. 

"The only thing _I _remember is that I'm supposed to meet someone here," Heero said icily. "Someone important. Someone that makes me happy. Someone that's definitely _not you_." Heero turned to leave. "As he's not here yet, I'll just wait for him outside."

"No! Please!" Daemon screamed. He grabbed Heero from behind, preventing him from leaving. Heero struggled but couldn't get out of Daemon's vice-like grip. 

Heero gave up. He felt all the emotions he thought he buried coming back up to the surface. Daemon used to be his comrade, his partner, his brother. Heero never really got over the fact that the person he trusted most in the world had been the one to betray him so quickly and so ferociously. 

"What do you want?" Heero asked, trying to keep the pain out of his voice. Daemon didn't care about him, and he _would not _give the bastard the satisfaction of knowing that his mere presence cut through Heero like a knife. 

"Y-you said you let me explain. Yesterday, you did," Daemon said. "Please, let me explain. You said I could explain." Daemon put his head on the back of Heero's neck. Heero could feel him crying. 

Heero tried once more to get away, and this time, Daemon let him succeed. "So _explain_," Heero said, turning to face Daemon. "_Explain_ to me how you could do that to me. _Explain_ to me how you could—" Heero broke off and looked away from Daemon. He couldn't face him now, not with the tears on both their cheeks. 

"You were my best friend," Heero started over, trying to keep calm. "You protected me, as much as you possibly could, from the older kids, and from the other Omegas. You were always with me, and I was always with you. The only time we were ever apart was when our mentors would take us on individual missions. I loved you, and I thought you loved me."

"I _did _love you. I _do _love you," Daemon said. He tried to embrace Heero again, but Heero sidestepped him, staying out of reach.

"Shut up, Daemon," Heero said. "This is _my _time to talk."

_"Please, kill me," the boy said. He begged, he **pleaded**, but his brother would not fulfill his wish._

_"No," the other said, shocked and horrified at what his little brother wanted. "I won't let you die. You're going to get better. You **are **getting better."_

_"I'm not," Heero said. "You know I'm not." He was weak, and he was tired, and he just wanted it to end. But Quatre couldn't see that. Quatre couldn't ever see anything bad. "The treatments aren't working. I'm not getting any better."_

_"Yes, you are," Quatre insisted. He never knew when to just give up. "You're looking healthier, you're more active. Hell, you even got out of bed today. And I'm sure that, soon, you'll even be able to use your magic."_

_Heero scoffed. He wasn't going to be able to use his magic. It was gone, taken by Dr. J and those "Healers" of his. The ones who put the wards in Heero in the first place. Heero pushed Quatre away, not being able to stand his optimism._

_"Quatre, we both know that the only way I could even get out of bed was with you and Dorothy and Maddy helping me. And even with that, I was only able because Dr. Kafka was sick this week. Without my treatments, I feel a lot better." Quatre hugged him, but not too tight—after all, he couldn't break the invalid. Heero didn't have the strength to shrug him off. "I'm dying. You know it, I know it, Dorothy knows it. Hell, even Dr. Kafka knows it. The only reason he continues the treatments is because you and Dot will kill him if he doesn't. And the treatments are just killing me faster."_

_"That's not true!" Quatre shouted. "You're not dying. You're getting better."_

_"Bullshit!" Heero yelled._

"Bullshit!"

Harry jerked awake at the yell. _What was that?_ he thought. He poked his head out of the curtains to find Quatre in the middle of the room, having a disagreement with the air.

"I weigh 87 pounds—you can see my ribs from the back! I can't keep food down! It all tastes like metal!" Quatre yelled. "Every day is a new torture! I can't do this anymore, Quatre!"

Harry stumble out of bed, trying to get to Quatre before he woke up the others. Harry had no such luck, as four head were poking out of four curtains by the time Harry got halfway there.

_"Please, just let me die. Be merciful, Quatre. It hurts to live," Heero said. And it did. It hurt to live, to breathe, to move, even to **think**. The treatments weren't curing him, they were just prolonging his suffering. He was getting weaker with every treatment, with every piece of Gundanium that left with body—whether it was cut out or he vomited it up. Quatre knew this, but he refused to see it._

_"I won't," Quatre said, releasing Heero and backing away from him. It was like he thought just being near his brother might kill him. "I can't let you die. You're all I have._

"Ha!" Quatre barked at nothing at all. "_All_ you have? I'm not even half of all you have. You have Dorothy, and your sisters, and our cousins. You have so many. You would barely even notice I was gone."

Harry watched in shock, as did the other boys in the room. He didn't know what to do—he was frozen to the floor.

_You're **everything** to me, and I won't let you go so easily," Quatre said._

_"You're selfish!" Heero screamed, his calm demeanor leaving him. He was desperate. He couldn't live like this anymore. It wasn't even living at all. It was barely surviving. "You're selfish and you're greedy. If you won't kill me, I'll do it myself!"_

_Heero grabbed a scalpel from the tray, one of the ones Dr. Kafka used during the treatments. Heero sliced at his skin, hacking away at any piece of flesh he could find._

The opening cuts on Quatre broke Harry from his paralysis. He ran to Quatre and tried to make him stop hurting himself. It didn't work. Even when Harry had a hold on Quatre's hands, more wounds kept appearing.

"Go get Madam Pomfrey!" Harry yelled at the others. Quatre needed help, more than Harry could give him. There was so much blood, so many injuries. "And Heero. Somebody find Heero."

_Quatre knocked the the scalpel from Heero's hands. It didn't stop Heero, instead only making him even more furious. He scratched at himself, tearing chunks of flesh from his face, his neck, his chest, anywhere he could reach._

_Quatre grabbed Heero's hands, stopping him from hurting himself. But Heero didn't stop. He couldn't. He could **feel **more cuts, more bruises, more wounds being put on his body even as Quatre dragged him over to the hospital-type bed._

Harry didn't know what to do. No matter what he did, Quatre wouldn't stop hurting himself. The only way to get him to stop would be to restrain him, Harry decided. But he didn't want to put a body bind on him. Who knew what it might do to him in the state he was in. Harry decided that he would have to physically restrain Quatre. He dragged Quatre over to his bed because it was closest. He threw his brother on it and climbed on top of him, holding him down.

_Quatre strapped Heero into the ankle and wrist cuffs. Heero knew he couldn't break free from them anymore, but that didn't mean he couldn't try. Heero gnawed at the leather, thrashed on the bed, did any and everything he cold to show his displeasure at being restrained._

_Heero ignored his brother's cries, ignored the pleadings for him to stop hurting himself._

_"Heero, please!"_

"Quatre, please!" Harry begged. He straddled Quatre's legs and held his hands firmly in his own. He didn't know what else to do until someone came to help him. Why wasn't Poppy here yet!

_"Heero, look!" Quatre shouted. He pointed to Heero's bare arms. He rubbed his hand over the drying, sticky-wet blood. "No wound! Look, Heero, no wound!"_

_Heero stopped fighting Quatre, sure that it must be some kind of trick._

_"What?" he asked warily, not wanting to hope. Hopes were always, **always** crushed._

_"Look, Heero," Quatre said, running his hands over Heero's arms, down his chest, across his face, "there are no wounds. They're healed." He looked up at Heero in awe. "You healed them."_

_Heero looked down. Quatre was right. There wer no wounds, not the teeniest, tiniest scratch. Heero didn't know whether to laugh or cry, so he did both. He looked up at Quatre, a smile on his face and tears in his eyes. _Maybe, _he thought, _maybe I'll be okay.

_Heero tried to sit up. His stomach rolled at the action, and he threw up all over Quatre, the taste of metal overpowering in his mouth._

Or maybe not.

Quatre threw up all over Harry. Surprisingly, it was silver and didn't feel like anything that should have been inside anyone's body. Harry didn't think about it too much, though, because Quatre woke up.

"Oh, thank God!" Harry cried. He threw his arms over Quatre and sobbed, not worrying about the silvery vomit smushing between them. "I was so worried!"

"So was I," Quatre said so quietly that Harry could barely hear him. "So was I."

Selune


	17. Theta and Omega

Disclaimer: I do not own any things Harry Potter—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to the wonderful J. K. Rowling and whomever else she decides. I do not own anything Gundam Wing—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to (I think) Bandai and Sunrise.

Spoilers: This fic contains spoilers for books 1-5 of Harry Potter and all of the episodes of Gundam Wing. This fic does not include Endless Waltz.

Rating: R

Pairings: Neville/Harry, 2x1

Summary: Two years ago, the One Year War ended. At this time, the five heroes—the Gundam pilots—disappeared from the Muggle world. Three of them—pilots 02, 03, and 05—reappeared shortly after in the Wizarding world, as students at Hogwarts School of Witchraft and Wizardry. Now, twenty months after the fact, Heero Yuy and Quatre Winner are coming to Hogwarts, and they're bringing all of their secrets with them. The world—especially one Harry Potter—will never be the same.

Peace, Love, and Family: 

The Story of the Vanuli Three

Chapter 16: Theta and Omega

Heero stared at Daemon, his arms loose at his side. He didn't know what to say. What could one say in such a situation? Heero sighed. He was never very good at expressing his feeling without getting upset. He was afraid that if he said one more word, he would break down. He would scream, yell, sob, wail, throw things, kick, punch, _rip_, have a full-out tantrum. He couldn't do that in front of non-family. Especially Daemon.

"I did everything for you," Heero said, trying—and succeeding—to keep his voice from breaking. But just barely. "Everything I did was for you and the other Omegas. We were family, and I loved my family. I lived for the Omegas."

"Yes, but—" Daemon started to say.

"_Shut up_," Heero interrupted him. "_I _am the wronged party here. That means that _I _get to be the one to talk."

Heero stalked away, infuriated by Daemon's closeness. He stared out one of the windows, the only one with glass in it. It overlooked a rose garden. Not a real rose garden, of course. It probably housed some rare, dangerous plant that the seventh years would have to dissect for Herbology and then use in Potions, maiming several of them in the process. It was still pretty to look at, and it calmed Heero.

"When I was seven, Odin Lowe, my mentor, took me with him on a mission to a Vanuli village. I don't know what his mission was—I probably never will—but I do remember one woman." Heero touched the window and remembered his mother. "She introduced herself to me as Morgan LeFey the Seventh and immediately led me away from Odin. She was the most beautiful woman in the world, with golden blonde hair flowing down to her ankles and the gentlest eyes I ever saw. She looked around forty years-old, but I later learned that she was 100. I was instantly smitten with her.

"I followed her around the entire day, but she didn't mind. Encouraged it, in fact, inviting me to tell her all about my life, my friends, my family. So I did. I told her about the Omegas. About you and Gatlin, Katydid and the others. I told her that I didn't have any magic, so you guys took care of me, protected me. And I, being the sweet person that I was, took care of you all. I cleaned your wounds. I cooked your food. I held you when it got to be too much, and you had to cry to somebody, or you'd die. I told her about our challenges and that I was always the one to make us lose. Because I was a Squib. I told her how _hard _I made it for my family, being what I was. I told her that I would do anything to make their burden less, and sometimes, I thought about doing just that, if you get what I mean."

Heero could see Daemon's reflection through the glass. By the shock in his eyes, he knew exactly what Heero meant.

"I'll never forget what she said to me then. She took my chin in her hands, and she said, 'You're not ever going to have to worry about being a burden on your family again.' I asked her how she knew that, why she would even think it. She didn't answer, but instead, she opened her hand. Two tiny spheres—maybe two inches in diameter—floated out, each a perfect golden yellow. They were fascinating, and I longed to touch them. Being seven and not aware of the dangers of such things, I did. They shot through my hand, and in that moment, I felt _right_. That was everything I needed.

"When I got my bearings back, I asked her what they were. 'Fury Orbs,' she said. 'They will become Fury Shooters when you get angry or upset. They're keyed to you now. They will protect you and your family.' 'Why would you do this for me?' I asked her, bewildered. No one who wasn't a family member _ever _did _anything _without wanting something in return. I knew that as much then as I do now. 'You remind me of my son,' she replied, and from the look in her eyes, I knew what she meant. She couldn't help him, and I was a good enough substitute."

Heero turned away from the window, tired of the view. The garden's deceptive beauty only drove it in that things—and people—were rarely what they appeared to be, and the ones a person loved most were the ones that could hurt him the most. He wiped a hand across his cheek and was surprised when it came back dry. No tears.

"But you already knew all of that, Omega-1," Heero tried to snarl it, but he couldn't work up the emotion. He was tired of fighting with Daemon—and with himself. "I told you when it happened. And you comforted me when Odin died because of it, even though we didn't know that was the reason at the time."

"Yes, I know," Daemon said. His voice cracked, and he looked pathetic, standing there amidst the bird shit, asking Heero to love him again. Heero would have felt sorry for him, if he could have brought himself to care. "I was there for you then. I can be there for you again."

"It took me five years to learn how to work Morgan's Fury Shooters," Heero said, pretending not to have heard Daemon's comment. "I figured it out just in time, too. Only three months before we were to fight the Thetas. The Thetas, who never lost, who never backed down, and who never took prisoners.

"Did you now that the Mus were Animagi? And the Nus were Metamorphmagi?" 

Daemon shook his head. 

"I thought not. I knew it, though. I was observant, even then. I watched the other units, tried to discover their weaknesses. Everything we knew about the other units would help us when we were up against them, and I wanted desperately to help us.

"The Thetas didn't have any weaknesses. Not a single one that I could find. So I decided to go undercover as one of them." Heero turned back to look at the garden. The flowers were beautiful, but they could probably kill in a second. Without mercy. Without remorse. Just like his Thetas.

"The only problem I had was that they were Acroumantula Homomagi, these huge, magical spiders with the ability to look like beautiful, blonde seductresses. _I _was a twelve year-old boy and a Squib. That wasn't very hard to overcome, though. I sent the Fury Shooters out to the Mus and the Nus. I set them on the lowest setting, so they wouldn't hurt anyone. They probably felt a little prick as the Shooters went through them, and then weak and tired for a few days after that. The magic that I got from the twenty-four of them lasted me about six weeks, so I had to redo it a few times.

"After I got the Animagus and Metamorphmagus magic, I was able to infiltrate the Thetas as one of them. I was shorter than them, younger, and I know they knew I wasn't a Homomagus. They didn't seem to care, though. They accepted me when I asked to join after they defeated the Sigmas. My rank was Theta-13, and my name was Annette."

Heero heard Daemon gasp from behind him, and a small smirk appeared on his face. Heero never told the other Omegas about what he did. He couldn't let them know; he'd needed their honest reactions to her. Annette had been a frightening person.

"As I said," Heero began again, "the Thetas knew that I wasn't like them, but I was close enough that they accepted me anyway. I spent three moths going between the Omegas and the Thetas. By day, I was the scrawny, little Squib who messed up everything. By night, I was a homicidal vixen, ready to strike at lesser beings at a moment's notice. It was a...nice existence for me. It wasn't perfect, by any means, but I liked it. I had my family, the Omegas, and my friends, the Thetas.

"I grew to love the Thetas. They were almost like sisters to me, but not quite. The Omegas were my sisters, my brothers. My first and only loyalty was to them, to you."

Daemon came up behind Heero and embraced him. Heero didn't stop him. He needed comfort from anyone right now. Even if it was from one who caused him pain.

"I never knew," Daemon said. "You never told me that. You never told any of us that."

"After three months, I still didn't know any of their weaknesses," Heero said, ignoring Daemon's words again. He tried to ignore the arms around him and the warm comfort he offered, but that wasn't as easy. "Their defense were perfect, their offense just as flawless. I could think of only one thing to use to defeat them."

"The Fury Shooters," Daemon whispered, his voice tinged with fear. And rightfully so—Daemon got hit with one during the battle.

"The Fury Shooters," Heero confirmed. "I told you and the others to put on as much Gundanium as possible. Morgan told me that the alloy—allani, she called it—would negate some of the effects of the Shooters. We got to the Practice Room, all dressed in our battle gear. We were so scared, Sam almost peed her pants. J called the battle to begin, and I let the Fury Shooters go. I set them on the highest setting, kill, and set them to kill "enemies of my family."

"They did their job, but there were only two of them. They could only hit one person at a time, and it was slow going."

Heero swallowed hard. There was a lump in his throat the size of a Quaffle. He was crying freely now, as he knew he would be. He couldn't even think of the Thetas without getting misty-eyed.

"I told you not to hurt the Thetas," Heero said, very calmly, he thought. "The Shooters would have left you alone. They wouldn't have attacked you. We all would have been just fine."

"We were scared," Daemon said, backing away from Heero. Heero felt a pang of loss as Daemon left him, but he quickly shut it out of his mind. Daemon wasn't important. Only family was important. Family and Duo.

"I expected you to do as you were told," Heero said quietly. He walked away from the window. The view was irritating him again. Heero walked to the door before turning back to Daemon.

"I didn't know what it meant at the time, but I do now. I set the Fury Shooters to attack enemies of my family. They attacked the Thetas because the Thetas were trying to kill the Omegas. The Shooters attacked the Omegas, as well, but only after the Omegas attacked the Thetas. The Thetas were a lot more important to me than I realized. They were my family, just as much as you were.

"I killed my family for the Omegas, and how did you repay me for that? How did you repay me for my sacrifice? You betrayed me, and you killed me. You, Daemon Rosencrantz, saw one little tear and judged me unworthy. You sent me to hell, and my child's mind did not survive. The Heero you knew is dead.

"Now, you want me to forgive you. You want to be family again. There is only one way to do that, _brother_. You have to brink me back to life."

With that, Heero turned on his heels and walked out of the Owlery.

Harry paced the hall in front of the infirmary. He never strayed from the door, fearing that Poppy would come to tell him how Quatre was, and he would be _way _over by the marble staircase, and she would never see him, and he would never find out what was wrong with Quatre. So he paced in front of the door—three steps to the left of it, three steps to the right of it, taking six steps in all. It was very boring and very tedious and very frustrating, and Harry thought he might just pull out all of his hair if he didn't get to see Quatre right now!

He thought about crying, but didn't. He thought about punching the wall, but didn't. He thought about tearing out his hair, but didn't. He thought about ignoring Poppy's orders and storming into the infirmary, demanding to know how his brother was, but didn't.

Harry plopped down on the floor in a huff. He wished Heero were here. Or Ron or Neville. Or Hermione or Dorothy. Even Dean or Seamus would be good. Harry needed someone to brood to. Unfortunately, Harry didn't know where Heero was. Quatre most likely did, but to Harry's knowledge, he wasn't talking. Harry sent Ron and Neville to look for Heero, but in a castle this big, it could take weeks. Hermione—as well as most of Gryffindor—didn't even know there _was _a situation, much less that Harry was currently biting his nails to the quick over it. Dorothy was in Slytherin and hadn't heard about it yet. Harry sent Dean and Seamus to bang on their wall until they made Dorothy come out.

That would take a while, and until then, Harry would go through this alone.

Dorothy was sitting in the plushest chair in the common room, eating grapes brought to her by a second year—after careful screening for poison—and doing her homework. The usual thing a procrastinator did on a Sunday morning. She was working on a paper for Transfigurations about the usual characteristics of an Animagus. It was very interesting, but there were a lot of facts she needed to know before she could get too in depth into it. Every now and then, she had to send someone to the library to check out another book on the subject.

"He-here's the book you wanted," one of the little one's said, panting heavily. Molly Green, Dorothy thought was her name. Green was completely blocking Dorothy's light as she stood there like an idiot, waiting for Dorothy to take the tome.

Dorothy finished the paragraph she was writing and took the book from the small girl. Just from the size of it, she knew that Green got the wrong one, but like the benevolent creature she was, Dorothy gave her the benefit of the doubt. Dorothy looked at the title of the medium-sized book—only a thousand pages or so—and sighed when it was not the correct one, the one she _told _Green to get.

"Molly," Dorothy said, turning to look a the child, "what book did I tell you to get?"

"Umm, the one I got?" Green asked, scratching her head.

"No, darling," Dorothy said, backing away from the girl. Children never knew how to keep clean, and Dorothy didn't want to catch what Green was scratching at. "I told you to get me How I Put the Ani in Magus by Cynthia Tigress. _This _book is Becoming an Animagus. Take it back," Dorothy showed the book at Green, "and get me the correct book."

"Y-yes, Miss Dorothy," the brat said and left Dorothy's sight.

Dorothy went back to her paper. She was in the middle of telling that wizards who succeeded in becoming Animagi were usually more determined, not more powerful, than those who failed at the task; however, only those with the correct gene for becoming an Animagus ever actually succeeded. Dorothy wanted to use statistics from the book Green was supposed to get, but she couldn't exactly do that now. Dorothy sighed. This was going to take _forever_ without that book. Green better hurry.

"Miss Dorothy?"

"What?" Dorothy snapped, looking up from her work. She narrowed her eyes when she was it was Green, looking remarkably bookless. At the spark of fear in the little girl's eyes, Dorothy smiled. "Well," she gently prodded, barely gritting her teeth, "_do _tell me what this interruption is for."

"There's two guys waiting outside for you," Green said, braver than before. Dorothy would have to beat that out of her. There were only three Gryffindors she could stand, and none of their names were Molly. "They said it was about a Quatre."

Dorothy's ears perked up at that, and she went on full alert. "What?" Dorothy screeched, towering over Green. She lifted the girl up by the front of her robe until Dorothy was looking straight at her. "You knew something about _my _Quatre, and you waited for me to _ask_ you before you told me?" Green tried to protest, but Dorothy didn't care. She flung Green into the chair and stalked away. "I'll deal with you later."

Dorothy walked out of the hidden door into the hall, where she saw two Gryffindors. She didn't know their names, but she saw them sit around her boys during meals. She didn't care who they were, what they were doing, or what they wanted from her. She wanted only one thing.

"Okay," Dorothy said, sauntering up behind them. They jumped—they had their backs turned and didn't see her—and she smirked. She drew her wand and pointed it at the tall, black one. "I'm going to speak slowly because I know most of you Gryffindors aren't big in the brain department. What. Happened. To. My. Quatre?"

Heero sprinted away from the West Tower. He wanted to get back to his room and his brothers as fast as his legs could carry him. He knew he was going to cry—he could feel the burning just behind his eyes, and it was going to be a big one—and knew that Quatre and Harry could make it all better. Heero felt safe with them.

So Heero ran and ran and ran and ran. In his running, he failed to notice the two people in front of him. Heero ran straight into the two, bowling them over like pins. Heero would have kept running anyway—that was the kind of mood he was in—but unfortunately, one of the two fell onto him.

Heero lay on the floor, pinned by the weight of Ron Weasley, his middle brother's best friend. Ron was heavy and didn't seem intent on getting up soon.

"Ohh, my head," Heero's other victim and Harry's boyfriend, Neville Longbottom, groaned to the right of Heero's ear. 

"Yeah," Ron agreed, still lying on Heero, "that's gonna hurt tomorrow."

"That's gonna hurt _now_," Heero said, attempting to push Ron away. Finally, Ron realized that neither of them were in the most comfortable of positions, and he stood up.

"Err, sorry about that," Ron said when all three parties were standing, "but I _am _glad we found you."

Heero couldn't think of any reason why the two of them would be looking for him, but he didn't particularly care. He just wanted to get back to Harry's bed, crawl into it with his brothers, and forget that any of this ever happened. Preferably without Ron or Neville realizing that _he _should be the one to apologize.

"Yeah, um, _Harry _asked us to come look for you," Neville said,, stumbling over his words while giving Heero a weak glare. Heero could tell he meant to be intimidating, but it wasn't working. Pathetic, really. But if that was what Harry wanted in a boyfriend, Heero wouldn't judge. Much. "But he didn't tell us where you might be, so we've been looking all over for you."

"Yeah, it took us forever," Ron said, interrupting Neville, "until we remembered the Marauder's—I mean, until we remembered to check the Owlery. We were on our way there."

"Mm-hm, mm-hm, okay, all right," Heero said before clapping his hands in Ron's face to get him to stop rambling. He made a mental note to ask Harry what the "Marauder's" was. "You said Harry wanted me?"

"Yes," Neville said, sounding none too happy about it. "Something happened to Quatre. He went _insane _or something. He's in the infirmary now—"

Heero stopped listening and ran away. His brother was hurt. His brother was sick. If anyone got in Heero's way on the way to the infirmary, Heero was hexing them into oblivion.

Harry rocked back and forth, back and forth, back and forth on the floor outside of the infirmary. Quatre had been in there an hour, there was still no news, and Harry was _alone_. He felt as though he would go as insane as Quatre did if something didn't change very soon.

So Harry rocked. He rocked to have something to do. He rocked, so he wouldn't cry, even though he desperately wanted to. He rocked, so he wouldn't have to think about bad things. _What if Quatre is sick? What if he doesn't get better? What if Quatre dies? _Harry rocked because he could do nothing else.

Arms wrapped around Harry. Warm, soft arms that felt like _mother_ and _safety_ and _love_. 

"Dorothy," Harry choked out. And then he wasn't rocking anymore but hugging and holding and sobbing and talking. "I was so scared," Harry cried into Dorothy's chest. "He was talking to air and hurting himself, and he wouldn't _stop_, no matter how much I begged and pleaded and bargained with him. And I had to restrain him, but he still wouldn't _stop_! Poppy couldn't either, but she took him away anyway and wouldn't let me _see_ him. And you and Heero were gone. I didn't know where you were! I didn't know what to do!"

"Shh, shh," Dorothy said, patting Harry's back. "You did great, and I'm here now." She patted his head, continuously ruffling and smoothing his hair. "It's going to be okay. Quatre's a strong kid. Whatever happened, I'm sure he's fine now."

"Then why can't I see him yet?" Harry asked, clinging onto Dorothy like a lifeline. "Why won't Poppy tell us anything?"

"I'm not sure, baby," Dorothy said. "Quatre's probably just resting."

"You think?" Harry asked, hopeful. He knew it most likely wasn't that, but he wanted to be lied to.

"Yeah," Dorothy said. "Now let's get you off this floor. You'll catch a cold."

Harry consented to let Dorothy pull him up, and they both stood. When they did so, Harry could see a person-sized blur coming from the stairs.

"How is he?" Heero asked as soon as he was within range.

"We don't—" Harry was cut off by the slight squeak of the door opening.

Selune


	18. Past's Perfect

Disclaimer: I do not own any things Harry Potter—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to the wonderful J. K. Rowling and whomever else she decides. I do not own anything Gundam Wing—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to (I think) Bandai and Sunrise.

Spoilers: This fic contains spoilers for books 1-5 of Harry Potter and all of the episodes of Gundam Wing. This fic does not include Endless Waltz.

Rating: R

Pairings: Neville/Harry, 2x1

Summary: Two years ago, the One Year War ended. At this time, the five heroes—the Gundam pilots—disappeared from the Muggle world. Three of them—pilots 02, 03, and 05—reappeared shortly after in the Wizarding world, as students at Hogwarts School of Witchraft and Wizardry. Now, twenty months after the fact, Heero Yuy and Quatre Winner are coming to Hogwarts, and they're bringing all of their secrets with them. The world—especially one Harry Potter—will never be the same.

Peace, Love, and Family:

The Story of the Vanuli Three

Chapter 17: Past's Perfect

Harry jumped when he heard the door opening and turned to face it in a flash, fully expecting to see Poppy or Quatre. Who Harry actually saw wasn't either of them. Instead, he saw a tall, blonde woman, between twenty and twenty-five years old. Harry had never seen her in his life, and he instantly went on guard at the sight of this stranger so near his sick brother.

She smiled at Harry, and that alarmed him even more. Here was this woman Harry never met in his life, smiling at him in the aftermath of his big brother's episode and in full plain view of his distraught baby brother. Quatre was probably dead, and this woman was here to lord it over him. _Oh, looky. Let's dangle a family in Harry's reach and pull it away when he grabs at it. What fun!_

Harry sighed in disgust. Just who did this woman think she was? Smiling at a time like this! And how did she even get into the infirmary in the first place? Harry had stood guard forever, and not a single soul had passed into those doors since Madam Pomfrey and Quatre. Clearly, the woman was evil.

"Hello, almost-brother," the woman said, walking away from the door, completely bypassing Harry and going straight for Heero.

Harry looked around at Dorothy—to get her attention and make that woman leave Heero alone—but Dorothy was remarkably calm. She just _stood _there and let that blonde demon put her paws all over Heero. It wasn't right! Even if it was a bit funny, given their height differences. The woman towered over Heero so much that when they both stood straight up, he only came to her shoulders.

In some situations, Harry might have found it mildly amusing (as long as he could forget the fact that he and Heero were exactly the same height). Now was not the time for amusing. Now was the time for all knowledgeable parties to speak up about _any _information—pertinent or not—they had on Quatre's condition. This lady obviously knew something about Quatre, but she wasn't telling it, as she was currently suffocating Heero with her breasts.

Heero pulled back from the "hug"—at a very good time, too, because Harry was just about to go break it up—and smiled at the woman. A real, honest smile! At a time like this! The woman must have cursed him, surely.

"Donai Maya, almost-sister," Heero said in a quiet but commanding voice.

Harry openly gaped at him. This woman was family. Or, at least, family of family. Something like family, anyway. Only family members were greeted like that. _I wish you and **our **family a long life and much happiness._

"Madrigal, how is Quatre?" Dorothy said, finally interfering in _something_, even if it was now evident that there was nothing to worry about. "We haven't been told anything, and we're worried. Especially Harry." Dorothy squeezed Harry's hand, as if to emphasize that it was he who was so terribly worried, and the other two were merely taking a Sunday stroll and happened to end up here.

"We probably shouldn't talk about it out here," the woman now revealed as Madrigal said. "Let's go into the infirmary, and I'll tell you all about it."

The four of them crossed the threshold into the Hospital Wing, and Dorothy shut the door, obscuring their conversation from any persons who happened by and decided to listen in. Harry waited as patiently as possible for this stranger, this interloper, this woman who was _not _Poppy—even if she was family or something like it—to get on with it and tell them what was wrong with Quatre. Basically, Harry stewed in annoyance and bit his cheeks to keep from screaming at the girl. The only thing that kept him from tackling her in frustration was the fact that she was kin. He would not hurt his brother's family. Not in the presence of said brother, anyway.

"First off, you should know that Quatre is fine," Madrigal said, speaking quietly so that none of the patients heard her. Curtains were pulled around two beds. Quatre was most likely in one, some unfortunate person in the other.

At hearing that Quatre was okay, Harry let out a deep sigh. "So what happened to him?" Harry asked, speaking directly to Maddy for the first time.

"It's really quite simple, and I suspect that I will shortly be_ very disappointed_ with my little brother," Madrigal said. Harry didn't care who she was disappointed in, figured out—in a brilliant case of deduction—that being Quatre's brother was why Heero greeted her like family, and was anxious to hear the diagnosis for Quatre. Either Harry's glare showed Madrigal that it was time to spill her guts, or she decided that five seconds was enough to constitute a dramatic pause, but whichever it was, she continued. "He got stuck in a vision."

Harry had no idea what that was. How could someone possibly get stuck in a vision? Harry's own visions always just ran until they were done, usually like films, and that was that. He figured that everyone else's—or at least, Harry's and Quatre's—visions would be similar to that. Harry—grudgingly—asked exactly how Quatre managed to do that.

"It happens from time to time with Oracles like Quatre and Heero," Madrigal said. She began walking over to the bed area, and the others followed. "It's not serious, if caught quickly enough, and can be completely eliminated if one practices at controlling his visions."

"But what exactly is it?" Harry asked as they neared the first occupied bed. He was becoming agitated with this woman who didn't fully answer questions and knew so much about Quatre and wasn't who he was expecting to see!

"What actually happens when a person gets stuck in a vision," Madrigal said, stopping at the halfway point between the occupied beds. Probably just so that Harry wouldn't know which one Quatre was in. "He is mentally drawn into the vision more so than usual. In a normal vision, the Oracle or Prophet or Seer sees the events either like through a bird's eyes, far above the action, or through a person in the event—called a Host. Sometimes, the visionary can feel the emotions or hear the thoughts of the Host. However, when an Oracle gets stuck in a vision, it goes a step further. The Oracle not only sees through the Host's eyes, feels the emotions of the Host, and hears the Host's thoughts, but he also goes through the actions of the Host. The Oracle's body will say what the Host says and do what the host does. If the Host is injured, the Oracle's body will be as well. They're called phantom wounds and fade entirely within a few hours, albeit leaving behind a black mucusy substance good for use in certain divinations potions."

_Ahh_, Harry thought, finally understanding. _**That's **why Quatre kept being cut, even when I was holding him down. _Harry didn't think he wanted to be there when the wounds faded. Black mucus was not his thing.

"It's very easy to get someone unstuck from a vision," Maddy continued, "if you catch it soon enough and have the correct potion. Thankfully, I am a disciple of the great Claudia DeFaux and always have a bottle of _Desino Visus_ with me at all times. All I had to do was add a bit of his DNA and _voila_, problem solved."

"So can we see him now?" Harry asked. He needed to see Quatre, to make sure with his own senses that his brother was okay. It wasn't that he didn't trust Madrigal, but—well, actually, it _was _that he didn't trust her. Irrationally so, considering that she was Quatre's brother and Dorothy and Heero had no problem with her healing Quatre, but there it was.

"He's sleeping," Madrigal said. She shifted her feet, and she made a face that suggested she was quite constipated and not happy about it. "And visiting is for family only, in cases such as these."

"I _am _family!" Harry shouted before he even had a chance to think about it. After he had a moment to digest his words, he realized how true they were. Harry _was _family. Harry was _family_. _Harry _was family. He was a triplet and a LeFey. "I will go in to see him when everybody else does."

Madrigal looked at Dorothy, and Harry turned around just in time to see his Naiyama nod her head.

"Okay, then," Madrigal said. She sat down on a bed straight across from the one Harry supposed Quatre to be in. "Since we're all family, I guess introductions are in order. I'm Madrigal Winner, twenty-sixth daughter of Raberba and Quaterina Winner and Master Healer to the Vanuli triplets." She extended her hand, and Harry shook it.

"Donai Maya," Harry greeted her. "I'm Harry Potter, first son of James Potter and Morgan Lefey the Seventh, and the second Vanuli triplet."

"Figures," Madrigal said. "I should have known. If it had been anybody else, Dot here would have sucker punched them into oblivion before letting them hear about private family matters."

"Probably so," Harry agreed sitting on the bed beside Madrigal. He decided that she couldn't be as bad as he thought before. He was just worried and unjustly took it out on her. After all, she couldn't be _too _bad. She was Quatre's sister, and the _family of my family is my kin_. Family—or kin—could never be that bad.

Thinking of his family, Harry looked around the room, only to realize one thing.

"Hey, where's Heero?"

When Heero first saw Madrigal, he was relieved that she was the one who healed Quatre. When Madrigal smiled, all of his tension drained away, and he felt like singing. Quatre couldn't be hurt badly. Madrigal wouldn't smile then.

After Heero greeted Madrigal, he pretty much tuned her out, listening only enough to insure that he heard anything important. Heero completely stopped listening when Madrigal said Quatre just got stuck in a vision. It was a little funny, even, after all the times Quatre scolded him for not practicing enough.

Once Heero stopped listening to Madrigal, another sound caught his attention. It was very low, very quiet. Heero couldn't make out _exactly_ what it was, but it sounded like someone singing. Very badly. In fact, it sounded like two cats in heat warbling at each other with musical accompaniment.

It was not pretty, and Heero did _not _want to get closer to whoever was singing, but he did. Madrigal led them over to the beds, jabbering to Harry all the way (who, Heero could tell, was not at all happy with the situation in the least little bit). When the quartet passed the first occupied bed, Heero knew without a doubt that the horrible, awful excuse for singing was coming from behind the curtains.

The song was a courtship one. Heero wasn't sure of the tradition or native tongue of it, but the singer mentioned several times that the listener should "choose me over all others," the singer could "give you everything you ever wanted," and had "a big package to boot."

The song—as pitiful and goatish as it was—was accompanied by a Pan flute. The most beautiful flute in the world, it made the most angelic sounds. Given as a present to the Vanuli queen by Pan himself when gods still walked the earth, the Pan flute was the only instrument allowed to accompany Life Day and marriage Ameneas. Other instruments—violins, drums, calliopes—could be played during all other Ameneas, but the Life Day and marriage Ameneas were sacred. Only the Pan flute was worthy of being played during them.

And this cretin was playing it while singing a courting song. While _badly_ singing a courting song.

Heero looked at the others to see if they noticed this atrocious act of vandalism—ruining the flute with such imperfect notes—but none of them seemed to hear a thing. Madrigal was still talking about Quatre's condition, Harry was scowling, clearly pissed off, and Dorothy was listening to them with a little smirk on her face. Heero huffed, indignant. He supposed he would have to stop the horrible behavior of the "singer" by himself.

Heero slipped away from the group and went to the opening in the curtains. He steeled himself against what would surely be an onslaught on his ears and pushed back the curtain.

Heero groaned when he saw who it was. There was no bed in sight. Instead, in the middle of the area, a harness hung from the ceiling. Suspended in the harness was a centaur with blonde hair. Zetoth.

Heero groaned again, and this startled the centaur and made him look up.

"Heero, you came!" Zetoth gushed, trying to run to Heero, but he was restrained by the harness. Not deterred by the fact that he was hanging a good foot and a half in the air, Zetoth continued speaking. "Oh, I wasn't sure you would hear my song, I had to sing so low. Earlier, I sang very loud, but after the other patient came in, I was told to be quiet. To not disturb him."

"Why were you singing at all?" Heero demanded, horrified that Zetoth thought he was actually answering the call rather than coming to beat the snot out of someone who dared to use a Pan flute for such a common song. "And why are you here? Don't centaurs hate humans?"

"Oh, Heero," Zetoth said. Heero could practically see the sparkles in his eyes. "You know why I was singing. I sang, so you would come. I sang for _you_, my beautiful Vanuli flower. It has been so long since I last saw you, and though I know it hasn't been the usual month between statement of intent to court and the actual courting process, I could not help myself. To be so close to you, my beloved, but not be able to see you, it was torture. And to be able to see you but not touch you, it is a worse fate. Please, my blossom, come and touch my lips, that I might imagine it is a kiss."

Heero couldn't help it—he burst out laughing. Zetoth sounded so much like Duo had when he'd first kissed him. Except for the rules and traditions of courting, of course. The situation was even sort of the same. When Duo first confessed his feelings for Heero, it was right after Heero rescued him from an Oz base. Duo had been recovering from his capture and wearing a hospital gown when he'd asked for the kiss, and now Zetoth was doing the same.

As with Duo, Heero couldn't bring himself to say no. He walked over to Zetoth and took the centaur's face in his hands. Because of their natural height differences and Zetoth's suspension, Heero couldn't reach Zetoth's lips even while standing completely on his tiptoes. Zetoth bent down until his head was semi-level with Heero's, bending himself almost in half. Heero put a hand on Zetoth's shoulder to steady himself and pressed his lips to Zetoth's.

The kiss was light, mere lips on lips. There were no tongues, no bites, no fireworks, no explosions. It was completely innocent. Like his first kiss with Duo but wholly different. With Duo, the first kiss was innocent. There were no tongues, no bites, no fireworks, no explosions. Just a permeating sense of perfection and the overwhelming thought of _this is **right**_. With Zetoth, Heero didn't feel that. He felt wrong—like he was betraying Duo.

Heero stepped back, horrified at what he did. "I-I'm sorry," he choked out, wincing when he saw the dreamy expression on Zetoth's face.

"For what?" Zetoth asked, opening his eyes. His pupils were dilated, and Heero knew that if he took a peek, Mr. Happy would most likely be at full attention. Not something Heero wanted to know conclusively, so he didn't look.

"For leading you on," Heero said. He took his hand off Zetoth's shoulder, snatching it back like he would be burned if he left it there for one more second. Zetoth tried to catch Heero's hand and hold it, but Heero wouldn't let him. Heero stepped far enough away that Zetoth couldn't touch him. "I'm not interested in you. The entire time we kissed, I was thinking of someone else."

Heero blinked back tears. What had he done? He betrayed the love of his life once again and hurt this nice boy who should stop wanting Heero and focus his attention on a deserving centaur.

"I have to go," Heero said, ignoring Zetoth's pleas for him to stay just a little bit longer.

Heero struggled with the curtain—_Why **do **they make these things so difficult?_—before finally finding the opening and storming out of the area. Heero got no further than twelve steps from the curtain when Harry caught him by the arm.

"We were just about to come look for you," Harry said when he caught up with Heero. "We didn't know where you went. Come on—we can go see Quatre now."

The truth was, Harry knew where Heero was since he laughed. It was so much a part of Heero that it didn't matter if it was a loud guffaw, a quiet snicker, a manly chuckle, or a girlish giggle. It was always perfectly Heero. Harry just didn't want to take Heero away from the source of his mirth until absolutely necessary. Quatre being awake qualified as absolutely necessary, though Harry didn't think he would have had to wait much longer anyway, with the way Heero stormed out of the curtains.

Harry took Heero's hand and led him over to Quatre's bed. He tried to send calming waves to his brother, like they did for him, but it didn't seem to work. Emotions were not Harry's forte. They were Quatre's. Maybe _he _could do something about it. After Harry gave him a thorough beating for scaring the crap out of him.

Quatre groaned as the light hit his eyes. It was way too bright in here. "Hey, somebody turn off the lights!" He yelled as he closed his eyes. The lights dimmed, and he opened them. That was much better. "Thanks, Dot," he said to the girl in the corner of the room.

"You're quite welcome," someone who who was _not _Dorothy answered. "You're also welcome for the saving of your ass."

Quatre looked around the...whatever it was—on second look, he decided that it couldn't be a room; walls didn't move that much—only to find his very favorite sister arranging medical instruments on a table. "Hey, Maddy," Quatre said, sitting up in his bed. "How did you get here? And where are we?"

"Well," she said, throwing a towel over the arrangement, "you're in the infirmary, most likely through _every _fault of your own. As to how _I _got here, Madam Pomfrey contacted me through the Floo after she couldn't figure out what was wrong with you and saw that I was listed as your personal Healer in your file. So of course, I Floo'd right over—there's a fireplace in Madam Pomfrey's office, you know, but it only connects to medical facilities—when I heard that my dear baby brother was sick.

"Now, about that "sickness,"" Madrigal said.

Quatre cringed at her tone. This meant a lecture, and a big one at that. It wasn't like he _meant _to neglect his practicing. It was just that he'd been so busy lately. What with making his potions, bonding with and keeping track of both Harry and Heero, Quatre hadn't had much time to practice.

"So I've decided to make it a mandatory part of your medical schedule," Maddy was saying. Quatre hadn't been listening and was completely lost as to what she meant. But he wasn't about to tell her that. Maddy got mean when she got angry, and she got angry when she wasn't listened to. "I'm going to go ahead and put it down for Harry and Heero, too. They need the practice just as much as you, I'm sure. And you should probably exercise your Gifts then, too." Maddy took a pad of paper out of her robe and scribbled on it. She copied it three times and handed one of them to Quatre.

"There," she said. "Three times a week, you are to practice controlling your Sight and your Gift with the professor of your choice."

_Ugh_, Quatre thought. _When am I going to have time to do this? And who are we going to get to do it with us?_

"Professor Lupin!" someone shouted at the open end of the curtain.

Quatre, startled, looked over there, a faint, "Where?" on his lips. But it was just Heero and Harry. They came into the little closed off area, and Maddy gave them their instructions.

"Are you sure?" Harry asked Heero. "Do you really want him to supervise us during that?"

"Why not?" Heero asked. They both walked over to Quatre's bed after they talked. "You already go to him for tutoring three nights a week. We'll just go with you. Plus, apparently, he's one of my wolves now."

Quatre scooted over as his brother sat down to either side of him. "When did this happen?" he asked.

"You know, I'm not sure," Heero said, scratching his head. He shrugged his shoulders and lay down beside Quatre. "But I remember keeping him away from Zetoth last night—who, by the way, is in the other bed. I'll ask Professor Lupin after class on Monday."

Quatre started to reply, but Heero's breath evened out, and he didn't respond to Quatre. He figured that Heero was asleep. _About time_, he thought. Quatre didn't know exactly what time it was, but he knew that it was much later than Heero usually went to bed on the days after the full moon.

"So what do you think?" Quatre asked Harry, who was currently spooning up against his back.

"I think Remus is a good choice," Harry murmured into Quatre's neck. "And I think we can forget about that whole "one week" thing. When I thought you were really hurt, I couldn't... You're stuck with me forever, now." Harry kissed Quatre's neck. "And I think we ought to think about what to tell everybody—before they figure it out for themselves. Some of the people in this school aren't as stupid as rocks, you know."

Quatre laughed at that, quietly, so as not to wake Heero—though Quatre doubted an air horn blasted in his ear could do that now. "That's Dorothy's job," Quatre said, fighting back a yawn. "She's good at spinning workable lies out of truth webs."

Harry laughed, and the vibrations he gave off were enough to put Quatre to sleep.

Maddy looked at the three sleeping boys and couldn't help but smile. They were peaceful, and she couldn't help but be happy for them. The triplets, back together again.

"I'm going to take off," she whispered to Dorothy. She had been away from her practice too long—patients would be backing up and she wouldn't get out of there until midnight at the earliest. Dorothy nodded, she was so transfixed with the sight of her babies. "Make sure they do what I said." Dorothy nodded again, and Maddy knew it was as good as done. Dorothy was made to protect her Niamos, and protect them she would. Even if it was from themselves.

"Maya Donai," Dorothy whispered when Maddy walked out of the curtain. Maddy smiled—even though she was human, she was still a part of their family. The most loving family in the world.

Maddy walked passed the beds—and this particularly bad bit of singing—towards Madam Pomfrey's office. Halfway there, she decided she didn't want to go back to her office yet. She was already backed up, she might as well go out for a long lunch and stay until two in the morning. Maddy reversed her course and walked out the doors of the Hospital Wing. She would have to go to the Headmaster's office if she wanted to go to Diagon Alley. She hoped she could remember where it was.

When Maddy walked out the door, a lime-green poster assaulted her eyes. Amazed at it's brightness, she went to read it.

Masquerade ball

October 31

9 PM to Midnight

6th and 7th years only

Come in costume or don't come at all

Sponsored and decorated by S.P.E.W.

"Huh," Maddy said before she continued on her way. That would be interesting.

Selune


	19. Cousins and Presents

Disclaimer: I do not own any things Harry Potter—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to the wonderful J. K. Rowling and whomever else she decides. I do not own anything Gundam Wing—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to (I think) Bandai and Sunrise.

Spoilers: This fic contains spoilers for books 1-5 of Harry Potter and all of the episodes of Gundam Wing. This fic does not include Endless Waltz.

Rating: R

Pairings: Neville/Harry, 2x1

Summary: Two years ago, the One Year War ended. At this time, the five heroes—the Gundam pilots—disappeared from the Muggle world. Three of them—pilots 02, 03, and 05—reappeared shortly after in the Wizarding world, as students at Hogwarts School of Witchraft and Wizardry. Now, twenty months after the fact, Heero Yuy and Quatre Winner are coming to Hogwarts, and they're bringing all of their secrets with them. The world—especially one Harry Potter—will never be the same.

Peace, Love, and Family:

The Story of the Vanuli Three

Chapter 18: Cousins and Presents

She sat in front of the old man—the one wizards either exalted or feared, sometimes both at once—and a small smile played across her lips. Tashpi stood behind her and a little to the right, ready to defend her Niamo, and her love, should the old man decide to do anything suspect. Not that he would, she thought. After all, the two of them had the same agenda, at least on this one matter. Keep Voldemort out of Hogwarts. Of course, they had different reasons for wanting this. Professor Dumbledore wanted the entire student body to be safe, as well as the faculty, staff, and various beasts housed at the school. She wanted only four people to be safe. Her cousins. The others could die horrible, painful, bloody deaths, for all that she cared. She would help them to it, in fact, if it would save her family.

"Tell me one thing Miss Peacecraft, Mr. Peacecraft," Professor Dumbledore said, nodding to her and her brother in turn. "Why come to me for an alliance? I was under the impression that the Sank kingdom was a pacifist nation. To have both the Queen and the Minister of Magic come to me with such a matter, I would never have expected it. Why come to me and not to Britain's own Minister?"

Relena looked over to her brother, standing behind his wife in much the same way Tashpi was standing behind her. He nodded and her, and she took that as her cue to answer.

"Well, Headmaster," Relena said, turning back to face Dumbledore, "as I know you are aware, the Peacecraft clan is and always has been a clan that prided ourselves on our loyality to our family. We value family over everything else, even going so far as to forsake our right to open marriages. As such loyal, devoted members of the Peacecraft family, my brother and I, as well as his wife and my Naiyama, feel that it is our solemn duty to protect any and all members of our family, whether they want us to do so or not.

"Your school is, more likely than not, a prime target in the current Dark Lord's overall scheme for total world domination. Normally, the house of Peacecraft would have no use for that information, preferring instead to leave you humans to your quarrels while we take care of our own. _However_, several members of our subfamily, cousins of ours in name and blood, chose to attend this school, for reasons still unknown to us. As this is now the case of _our _family in the center of this turmoil, we offer our assistance to you, at such time as you see fit to accept it, in order that our cousins shall remain unharmed during their stay at your school.

"As for why we seek an alliance with you directly instead of with Minister Fudge," Relena laughed a bit at the thought of allying herself and her family with that idiot. "The reason is very simple. Fudge is an incompetent fool. I would rather ally myself with a bowl of cold pudding before I would with him."

"Ah, well," Professor Dumbledore said, his eyes twinkling. Relena knew he felt the same way. Word of mouth was that Dumbledore "very much disliked Minister Fudge" and was currently trying to get him fired. "It's always nice to know a person's reasons for doing something. The matter's in the intentions, you know.

"Now, if I could just have a look at the contract the two of you drew up for me to sign, I'm sure we can do away with _this _matter fairly quickly."

"Let us hope, Headmaster," Relena said, taking the parchment Tashpi handed her.

Heero was oh, so very happy today. He had a skip in his step and a smile on his face as he hummed on the way to breakfast, much to the surprise of any and all who saw him. The others wouldn't be so surprised, though, if they knew what day it was. It was the fourteenth. Exactly one week before the full moon. _And _the day Lena, Milly, Lucy, and Tasphi were coming to see him (it was supposed to be a surprise, though, so neither his brothers nor Dorothy knew of _that_). So Heero was in his normal, pre-full moon, playful state, and he was practically giddy at getting to see his cousins after so long.

"I get to see my Lena. I get to see my Lena," Heero wanted to sing, but he couldn't. Because of the surprise. So he settled for just humming it as he skipped in a circle around Quatre and Harry.

They were so _slow_! Didn't they know that the sooner they got to breakfast, the sooner they cold leave? And that the sooner they left, the sooner they could go to class? And the sooner they got to class, the sooner all their classes would be over? And the sooner classes were over, the sooner they could see their family? Well, maybe not that one, it was a surprise! But the sooner classes were over, the sooner they could all play. They could run in the forest, and chase rabbits and squirrels and all other kinds of small, furry animals, and they could fly, fly, _fly _in the sky like birds!

Heero didn't think Harry and Quatre knew that, so he tried to tell them by pulling on their arms and pushing them forward. To get them to hurry up. So they could play!

"Stop it, Heero," Quatre growled at him when they reached the entrance to the Great Hall. Quatre grabbed Heero's chin and forced him to stop fidgeting and look at him. Heero did so grudgingly—he wanted to play! "Heero, you need to calm down before we go in there, or people might suspect something is wrong."

"Yeah, Heero," Harry said, much nicer than Quatre.

Harry was always so much nicer than Quatre. Quatre was mean, not letting him play! Heero pouted as Harry moved the trio out of the way of a group of third year Ravenclaws, all of whom stared and pointed at them.

"We don't need people suspecting us about anything before we tell them what we're going to tell them. And we certainly don't want any staring and pointing," Harry said, gesturing to the Ravenclaws. "Not unless it's for a good reason. Like on Halloween. They can point and stare then."

Heero agreed to calm down, albeit with a kicked puppy expression. He only did it so his brothers would be happy with him. He hated it when they were mad at him. It got lonely.

Harry nodded and walked into the Great Hall, alone so people wouldn't know they were together. Heero and Quatre followed a few paces behind—Heero suitably subdued—and sat next to Harry and his friends on the 7th years' end of the table.

"Morning," Heero said in a more normal—for him, anyway—tone of voice. The other 7th years, many who saw how he was earlier, gaped at his rapid change in behavior.

"Pass me the pastries, please," Heero said to Quatre. He almost giggled at his little bit of alliteration, but stopped himself when he saw the warning in his brother's eyes. Heero lowered his eyes to his plate after taking a danish.

_I never get to have any fun_, he thought as he took the danish apart, bit by bit. Heero sighed and ate his breakfast, an owl fluttering by every now and then as it brought a package or letter to one of his classmates.

"And then we had to run and hide behind the statues—the ones in the front hall—because Filch was on our trail. It was then that Hannah and I remembered she was Head Girl and I was a prefect, so we stepped out from behind the statues—not even bothering to dust ourselves off from the fall earlier—and ran up to Filch ourselves. We caught him and told him we were on the lookout for a couple of troublemakers, and asked if he had possibly seen any around."

Heero looked up from his plate at the burst of laughter following Ron's tale. Ron was always telling the other Gryffindors about his liaisons with his girlfriend. Heero sometimes wondered if she knew about it, and whether or not she'd get mad when she found out. Heero's eyes met Harry's, and he knew that Harry was thinking the exact same thing. They burst out laughing at the same time. It was fun.

"Wow, look at it," Seamus said, drawing Heero's attention away from Harry. He pointed at the ceiling behind Heero. "I didn't think they were ever used as post-birds. Too dignified, the lot of them."

Heero looked where Seamus was pointing, and he saw it. A beautiful, solid white bird, at least three times the size of an owl. It had a very short beak which looked even smaller in relation to its gargantuan size. It carried a package in one claw.

"I wonder who owns _that _thing," Hermione said, looking at the bird in awe. Heero could tell that she was probably trying to figure out just what species it was, and where she first learned about it.

"I guess we'll find out soon," Harry said as the bird started circling lower, getting ready to drop the box.

The group—all of the Gryffindor seventh years and a few of the sixth—watched the bird as it swooped the Great Hall once, twice, thrice, getting lower on each descent. They all caught their breath as the bird—an Ounta, if Heero was correct—dropped its burden. Heero didn't look down to see whose package it was but continued to watch the bird. It didn't leave as most post-owls did after their job was completed. It continued its descent, flying in lower and tighter—right over the Gryffindor table.

"Heero, _Heero_," Quatre said and poked him in the ribs.

"What?" Heero said, jumping. He took his eyes off the Ounta and turned to look at his brother.

"Look," Quatre said, pointing to Heero's plate.

Heero looked. There, amidst his breakfast, was a package. Heero was amazed that it hadn't managed to fall on any food, as his plate wasn't exactly empty, and even more amazed that he hadn't noticed it land. Heero picked up the card and read it.

_To my beloved Heero Yuy_

_Hogwarts_

Heero turned the card over, but there was nothing else written on it. He knew it wasn't from Duo, no matter how much he wanted it to be. The handwriting was much too different.

_I wonder who sent this_, Heero thought. Heero picked up the box and looked over it, trying to figure out who sent it. There was no writing, no indication of any kind who had sent it.

He and Quatre usually only got mail on the first of the month when it was forwarded by Relena. That was when he got the letter from Lena telling him of her visit. Most of Heero's and Quatre's mail ended up in Sank because that was where most people sent it. Very few people actually knew they were attending Hogwarts, and those that did know didn't want to bother with learning a new address.

"Well, aren't you going to open it?" Harry asked, peering at the package over Heero's arm.

"Might as well," Heero said. It seemed safe enough, but he got out his wand just in case. From the corner of his eye, he saw Quatre do the same.

"_Diffindo_," Heero said and watched as the package was cut open.

Heero saw Quatre hold his wand level with the package as he reached to completely open it. He grasped the two flaps now on the box and pulled them apart. The box fell apart, and Heero gasped at what he saw.

Inside the package were two tiny figures. They were dancing on a platform—a waltz of some sort—and music was playing from inside the platform. The leading figurine was a centaur, a very familiar-looking centaur with blonde hair. The other figure had brown hair, just like Heero's own. Curious, Heero leaned down to see them better. On closer inspection, he could see that they were, in fact, exact, tiny replicas of Zetoth and himself.

When they saw him looking at them, they stopped dancing and waved to him. Tiny-Heero said something to Tiny-Zetoth, and the two began a different dance. The music accompanying them changed from a waltz to swing music, and the two began a complicated little number that Heero was amazed a being with four legs could do it.

"Hn-hn!" Heero heard someone clear his throat from behind him. Heero reluctantly turned around and saw the Ounta standing in front of him, its beak level with Heero's nose.

"Right," the Ounta drawled, as much as a bird was able, and ruffled its feathers.

Heero stared at the bird and wondered why it was there. As far as Heero knew, Ountas were extremely pompous and snooty, never bothering with species other than those with whom they deemed worthy of association. Humans were rarely ever seen as such to any species other than House Elves. It really made him wonder.

"My name is Yinau, son of Yirey, son of Yideu, son of Yinoi, founder of the Yi flock," the Ounta said, going through the custom of the Ounta species. Heero didn't know if he was expected to reciprocate or not, but either way, he wasn't telling all and sundry who his parents were. "I have come to you today, Heero Yuy, in order to bring a message from my great friend, Zetoth Koel, son of Lorak, son of Brimor, leader of the clan Teldan."

The Ounta—as that was most definitely what it was; no other bird was as long-winded and haughty as that kind—went on and on in extremely formal language before Heero stopped him.

"What exactly _is_ this message you are supposed to give to me?" Heero asked, his face still very close to Yinau's.

The bird, not phased by Heero in the least little bit, answered him, "My great friend Zetoth Koel said, and I quote,

"The month is up;

The game is here;

I'll make you mine

within one year.

This starts the day;

This very the hour;

I'll woo you yet,

My wild flower."

Heero gaped at the bird as it said that. He could tell Yinau was uncomfortable saying things like that to one he most likely felt was unworthy of his "great friend." Heero was probably just as uneasy.

"I guess this is my first present then," Heero said, referring to the tiny dancers. He finally remembered centaur courting procedures. One month between declaration of intent to court—the kiss on the hand during their first meeting—and the actual first stage of the courting process. The first stage consisted of giving gifts from the courter to the courted. It lasted for two weeks, and during that time, the courter could have no direct contact with the courted. An intermediary was used—most likely this talking bird—until such time that the two could meet.

"I suppose you're part of the gift as well," Heero continued, purely to see the look of fury on the Ounta's face. He followed through just as Heero predicted, quite upset with him.

"My word!" Yinau exclaimed, clutching his chest with his wing. "I'm no more a gift than you are. No. _I _am the liaison between yourself and my great friend Zetoth. I will give you messages from him and he from you until such time that the two of you may meet, in accordance with the laws laid down by the ancient centaurian council some millennia ago."

"Really?" Heero asked, perfectly aware of the things Yinau just explained to him. "Then I have a message for your great friend Zetoth." Heero grabbed the figurines from the table and shoved them into Yinau's wings. " 'Leave me alone.' "

Heero pushed passed the bird and walked out of the Great Hall. He hated to lose the pretty dancers. They were such exquisite artwork, and Heero had to wonder just how a centaur got such lovely pieces of magic. But still, Heero did _not _need some childish suitor pursuing him while he was pursuing Duo. It would only make Duo less likely to respond to his advances.

Unless... Duo _did _have a history of being quite jealous.

Heero skipped the rest of the way to class, formulating his new, ingenious plan.

_S-I_

Harry sat in Divinations class, thinking over his and his brother's costumes for the upcoming Masquerade ball while pretending to take notes.

_B-Y_

The three of them were going to it together, in matching costumes. No one else knew they were going together, and they planned to keep it that way. Their costumes were a secret—people wouldn't know who they were until they took off their masks. At midnight.

_L-L_

This weekend, they were going to Hogsmeade to pick up the fabric for the main part of the outfits. Heero would then transfigure the material of certain parts of costumes, and Harry would charm the vines to move. Quatre was on anti-poison duty. Those flowers held quite a kick to them.

_W-I_

Now, though, Harry was stuck in stupid Divinations. They were practicing gyromancy. Rather, Heero was. The desks were all pushed to the side of the

_L-L_

room and everyone else sat in a circle around Heero. Heero danced in a circle within their circle. Letters were in his circle

_D-I_

and whichever ones he stepped on, they had to write down.

_E-O-N_

Harry was trying to pay attention to Heero's movements, but he kept getting sidetracked by thoughts of Halloween.

_T-H-E_

They were going to "come out," so to speak, at the dance. Sort of. Several people were getting suspicious of them—how much time they spent together and whatnot—and no matter how much they tried

_T-W-E_

they couldn't seem to stay away from one another long enough to dispel those suspicions. Hermione, for one, was starting to disbelieve everything Harry said! And Ron probably would, too,

_N-T-I_

if he wasn't always busy messing around with Hannah. Neville was very jealous, always glaring at Quatre and Heero

_E-T-H_

when he was around them.

Harry sighed. He would really be glad when it was out—kind of—and they didn't have anything—much—to hide.

_B-Y-A_

Harry reached beside him and grabbed hold of Neville's hand.

Everything would be okay once they told everyone their half-truth. they could be with each other all the time. Hell, it would probably be expected! Harry just wished he could go ahead and tell his friends.

_C-A-T._

Heero stopped dancing and went to sit by Quatre. Surprised that he was done—Heero was only up there five minutes, and everyone else taken, at least, ten—Harry looked down at his parchment to see what Heero's prediction was. Harry smiled, just enough to keep himself from doubling over with laughter, and settled in to wait for his turn.

Who would have known Heero had it in him?

Potions was usually Quatre's favorite class, and—even with everything that was going on—today was no exception. They were just learning about a new potion today, instead of making it, but it was still quite exciting for Quatre.

"_Conduprico_," Professor Snape said, pacing up and down the rows, heavily preferring the Gryffindor side, "has one main use. When poured into an existing potion, it will cause said potion to double in size. However, because this potion dilutes the original some in order to achieve this effect, it is usually only used on very simple potions which will still work after such an effect. Also, because it dilutes the original potion, using _Conduprico_ on the more complex or unstable potions will result in dire consequences for the potion maker."

Quatre dutifully took notes like the star pupil that he was and thought about on what he could use this potion.

_I wonder if it works on Booamyie. That's not **too **complex._

"Well, Miss Peacecraft, it seems as though everything is in order," Professor Dumbledore said, handing Relena her copy of the contract.

"Please, call me Relena," she said, a genuine smile on her face. "After all, we're allies now."

"Well, all right, Miss—Relena," Dumbledore said, standing up. Taking that as her cue, Relena stood as well. She sensed as Lucy rose from the chair beside her.

"I supposed I should show you your rooms," Dumbledore said, smiling at them. "Or perhaps, you'd rather someone else do it?"

"I believe we would rather have our family show us the way," Tashpi spoke for the first time during the meeting. Relena tried to hide her surprise at this event—her lover never spoke during these types of meetings, preferring instead to scope out any dangers to her Niamo—and failed. Tashpi gave Relena a small smile when she whirled around.

"I believe I would like to see my sister's face when we show up so unexpectedly," Tashpi explained. And that did explain it. Tashpi and Dorothy did _not _get along for a variety of reasons, most of which related back to Relena. "You did tell Heero not to inform others, right?"

"Of course," Relena squeaked. Suddenly, this didn't seem like such the good idea.

_I am **so** bored_, Heero thought as he rolled his quill back and forth across the desk. After breakfast, it had taken him so long to think of a plan to use Zetoth's infatuation with him in order to get Duo back. It took fifteen minutes and involved a bull horn, mating calls, and duct tape. All in all, not Heero's best idea, and he abandoned it soon after. He would think on it later, when he was more himself.

So then Heero focused on Divinations and gyromancy. It was fun, what he did. It made everybody else happy, too. Except Trelawny, the old bat. Apparently, she didn't like having her own death predicted.

So Heero _was_ in a good mood then, and having fun, but potions just seemed to suck the fun out of everything. The only good part of it was that he got to see Duo, and having both Snape and Daemon around then seemed to take the fun out of even that. Snape was up there, now at the front of the class, pacing like a caged tiger, droning on and on and on about something or other that, frankly, Heero didn't give one whit about.

"I'm so bored," Heero whispered to Quatre. Quatre tried to flick him away, but it didn't work. "Play with me," Heero demanded, showing Quatre the tic-tac-toe board he drew on his book.

"No," Quatre scolded him. Heero flinched at his tone—and pouted. "Look, Heero, we'll play later," Quatre said in a much nicer voice. "Maybe Harry will even play with us."

Heero nodded and tried to go back to studying. He was happy at the prospect of both Quatre and Harry playing with him at the same time, and he didn't want to do anything to jeopardize that. It's just—it was just so boring!

"Are you sure this is it?" Milliardo asked his little sister. He didn't think this could possibly be the right room, what with the smell coming from it. There was no way Dorothy Catalonia would go into a room that smelled like that. Her nose was almost as sensitive as his.

"Of _course_, I'm sure, Milly," Relena retorted, scowling. "This is pretty much where Professor Dumbledore said they would be, and I can feel them in there."

Oh, yes, or course, she could _feel _them in there. And she was _never _wrong about things like that—wait a minute. She _was _never wrong about things like that Not when it came to family. The girl had an uncanny ability to find her family, wherever they may be, even if they weren't her family yet.

Damn.

"I think Milly just doesn't want to go into the cold, stinky room," Lucy said in semi-baby talk. Milliardo was very glad that his wife forgave him for everything he did and didn't do, but she got weird when she got pregnant. He hoped she returned to the normal, loving, baby talkless Lucretzia Noin he knew and loved after their baby was born.

"There's only one way to find out if I'm right," Relena said, standing up to her full height.

"Wait for the class to let out and see if they pass us?" Milliardo said, hopefully.

"No, silly," Relena said, hand on the doorknob. "We have to go in and look."

Harry sat in class, holding Neville's hand once more—it was great that Neville was left-handed—about to fall asleep. Snape's voice was so soothing in its monotony, the strong, even slaps of his feet on the floor enhancing the effect.

Harry shouldn't even be tired, not with all the sleep he got last night. Relatively speaking. But if Quatre was to be believed, he wouldn't be getting much at all tonight. It was a week before the full moon, and Heero was in play mode. He would want Harry to play with him. All night long. So Harry wasn't about to say no to a few extra zzz's, then, even if it was during Snape's class. _Especially _if it was during Snape's class. Harry lay his head on the desk.

"_What _do you think you are doing?" Snape yelled.

Harry sat up suddenly, so suddenly that he lost his balance and fell in the floor. "I'm sorry," he said, though he didn't really mean it.

Harry looked up, expecting to see Snape's sour, beak-nosed face glaring down at him, but it wasn't. Snape's sour, beak-nosed face was glaring at the door. Harry turned to see what he was looking at.

In the door stood four people, three girls and one man. The lead girl—Harry deemed her that, at least, because she seemed to be the one in charge—walked into the room, a piece of parchment in her hand. She handed it to Snape.

"With the permission of Professor Dumbledore, I will be removing a few people from your classroom, just for today," she said, with all the air and authority of one who is used to getting her way. "I'll be taking her," she pointed to Dorothy—"him"—Quatre—"him"— Heero—"and...him"—Harry.

Selune


	20. The Game

Disclaimer: I do not own any things Harry Potter—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to the wonderful J. K. Rowling and whomever else she decides. I do not own anything Gundam Wing—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to (I think) Bandai and Sunrise.

Spoilers: This fic contains spoilers for books 1-5 of Harry Potter and all of the episodes of Gundam Wing. This fic does not include Endless Waltz.

Rating: R

Pairings: Neville/Harry, 2x1

Summary: Two years ago, the One Year War ended. At this time, the five heroes—the Gundam pilots—disappeared from the Muggle world. Three of them—pilots 02, 03, and 05—reappeared shortly after in the Wizarding world, as students at Hogwarts School of Witchraft and Wizardry. Now, twenty months after the fact, Heero Yuy and Quatre Winner are coming to Hogwarts, and they're bringing all of their secrets with them. The world—especially one Harry Potter—will never be the same.

Peace, Love, and Family:

The Story of the Vanuli Three

Chapter 19: The Game

"No. This won't work," Relena announced as she stepped into a room to the right of the common room.

Harry looked into the room she—_his_ cousin, by blood—entered. He could see nothing wrong with it or with the rest of her, Tashpi's, Milliardo's, and Lucy's temporary quarters. Granted, they _were_ pretty small, just four rooms, one of which was a bathroom, connecting to a common room the size of his Aunt Petunia's den. The bedroom he and Relena—and Tashpi, who couldn't seem to get out from under Relena's ass—were currently in the biggest one, as far as Harry could tell. It was rectangular, which was to be expected because the whole area used to be the Charms classrooms, but of a fair size. There were two large dressers to the far end, just under the window. In the middle of the room, the headboard facing the left wall, was the biggest four-poster Harry had ever seen. All in all, not too shabby.

"It's not big enough," Relena said, turning her back to her companions.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, knowing he was about to be made to feel very stupid. For the past two hours—the length of time it took them to find these apparently inadequate quarters—every time anybody said _anything_, Harry was reminded of how very little he actually knew about Vanuli culture. He didn't know the typical daywear of his people, where the majority of them lived, or what they liked to eat. He wasn't even that clear on what Dorothy was to him! Besides her title, Naiyama. Every time one of his newfound cousins, brothers, or protector said anything about the Vanuli—which was only every _other _word out of their respective mouths—Harry felt his frustration rise a little bit.

Tonight, when he and his brothers went to bed, Harry would explain this to them. Quatre and Heero would help him learn everything he needed to know.

"This bed just isn't big enough for eight people," Relena said, swerving back around to look at Harry. "How does Dumbeldore expect us all to fit in _that_?" She pointed to the bed, a look of mild disdain crossing her face.

"He doesn't," Milliardo said. Harry turned to look at him. Tall. Aristocratic features. Married to Lucy. Father of the unborn Allurna. The Head of his House—whatever that meant. Harry had a feeling that it wasn't comparative to Professor McGonagall and Gryffindor. Relena was the Heir. "Professor Dumbledore doesn't know of our preference to be as close to our family as possible, even in sleep. There are two other bedrooms, passed the common room." Milliardo stepped closer into the room, eyeing it over. He nodded his head, and Harry took that to mean it was satisfactory. "If we take out the dressers and expand the bed until it reaches the window, we should all be very comfortable tonight."

Milliardo started to walk out of the room, then stopped. "Oh, yes. Heero is currently jumping on the bed in what I believe to be your room, Relena. He managed to make Quatre join him. They both wish for the presences of their "favorite middle brother and cousin 'Lena." "

_Jumping on beds is fun_, Heero thought, as he did just that. _Especiall_y _Hogwarts beds. They have just the right amount of springiness and aren't too soft._

"Ten little monkeys jumpin' on the bed," Heero sang, grabbing Quatre's hands and jumping the both of them in circles. "One fell off and bumped his head. Momma called the doctor, and the doctor said, "No more monkeys jumpin' on the bed." "

Heero felt more people climb on the bed, and he released Quatre's hands, instinctively allowing Harry and Lena to fill in the empty spots. Harry grabbed Heero's left hand, Relena his right, and Quatre their empty ones.

Heero continued singing his song as the four of them jumped. He couldn't remember where he heard it, but it was a great bed-jumping song.

"Nine little monkeys jumping on the bed! One fell off and bumped his head! Momma called the doctor, and the doctor said, "No more monkeys jumpin' on the bed!" "

Dorothy watched her boys as they played, flinching every time one of them, or Relena, came close to the edge. She knew they were almost grown and that a tumble off a three foot high bed wasn't likely to hurt any of them, but she still worried. Beside her, she could see Tashpi doing the same thing.

"Donai Maya, Tashpi," Dorothy said, speaking to her directly for the first time all day.

"Hnn," Tashpi grunted. "Donai Maya, Ismea."

Tashpi was Dorothy's older sister by two years. She was the daughter of Vikimi and Teurnna Mordal. Teurnna was Dorothy's mother. Even though they were raised in vastly different worlds—Tashpi was raised by her Vanuli parents, and Dorothy by her human grandfather Dekim with considerable influence by her cousin Treize—the two were fairly close growing up.

After Dorothy's father died when she was a year old—he was Deatheater killed by Voldemort on the day before Halloween for displeasing him—her grandfather raised her. Not knowing how to raise a young girl because he'd had all boys, Dekim usually took Dorothy to her mother for several months out of the year. While there, Dorothy met Tashpi, and the two became fast friends.

As Dorothy got older, Dekim put her in boarding school after boarding school to keep her out of the way. When school was out for the summer, Dekim took to keeping her with him, preparing her for the war ahead. The war between Earth and the colonies. Dorothy grew closer and closer to Dekim and the human world, and farther and farther away from Tashpi and the Vanuli one. From the time Dorothy was eleven, until the time that she was fifteen, she had no contact whatsoever with the world of her mother.

Relena Peacecraft changed all that. Relena, raised by wizard parents who, even though she believed them to be her birth parents, taught her all about the Vanuli. Relena, former Queen of the World and current Queen of the Sank kingdom. Relena who was—upon Dorothy's first meeting with her—one of only two members of the regal Peacecraft clan. Dorothy knew that she could have loved Relena, if given half a chance. But she wasn't.

There were only two reasons for a Vanuli to kill another Vanuli. The first was considered an honor and in most cases, unavoidable. When twins were born to a Vanuli family, the mother almost always died instantly after giving birth, the drain on her magic and body being too much to take. Occasionally, the mother would survive, but just barely. At those times, the mother would be placed in a coma-like state until such time as the twins reached their majority. On their Life Day, the twins' mother would be awakened and sacrificed during the Fusion, in which the two became the One. It was a wholly beautiful experience, and Dorothy was very excited that she would get to experience it in her lifetime.

The second reason was a fate worse than banishment. It was a disgrace to the entire clan; a blight on their very name. When a warrior became a Naiyama—such as Dorothy and Tashpi had—she took an oath to protect her Niamo, her child, from all harm. Her whole life revolved around the one she was to protect. She loved her Niamo, and he, in turn, trusted and loved her. If a Naiyama were to break that trust—and in doing so, her oath—she would be put to death. The only example of a Naiyama _ever_ doing such a thing was in 883 A.D. Vierry Kordel made love to her sixteen year-old Niamo, Allurna LeFey. She was executed within one week's time.

When Dorothy first met Relena, she knew, beyond a shadow of a doubt, that she was meant to be Relena's Naiyama. So Dorothy never tried to become romantically involved with the princess. When, upon Relena's sixteenth Life Day, Dorothy didn't feel the distinct pull that signified a call to service, she was deeply disappointed. When Dorothy discovered just exactly _who _Relena's protector was, she was very relieved. Dorothy knew Tashpi would take care of her friend, following all the rules and regulations that one must. In three months time, when Dorothy felt not one, but _three _distinctive tugs at her stomach, telling her to go, find her boys, Dorothy left Sank with a heavy heart and a suspicious mind.

Dorothy could tell, even then, that there was more between Relena and Tashpi than there should be. The furtive looks. The casual touches that lingered just a bit too long. It all pointed to the one thing that could never be, and that spelled trouble. The whole thing was wrong. Sooner or later, they would slip up, and the wrong person would find out. That would put an end to their love affair in the most gruesome way possible, and it would kill Relena.

Dorothy couldn't forgive her sister for what she was doing to Relena, but she wouldn't interfere. That didn't mean she would be nice to Tashpi, though.

"Do you think we should stop them, now?" Lucy—formerly Lucretzia Noin—asked, startling Dorothy out of her reverie. Milliardo's wife patted Dorothy on the arm, as if sensing her thoughts. "I remember Relena saying that she wanted to play a game of some kind?"

Heero was so excited. They were about to play the Game. He was going to play the Game! Heero stood in the common room with the rest of the family, waiting for the Game to begin. Milly was explaining the Game for the benefit of Lucy and Harry.

"The object of the Game," Milly said, holding up a large jar; it was glowing a bright blue, "is to get this. _This_," he shook the jar for emphasis, "is a Vahir. It is pure energy, set to a timer. When the time is up, the Vahir will become corporeal. Whoever has it at that moment wins the Game.

"Now for the rules." A number of groans sounded from around the room, Heero included. Why did such a great Game have to be messed up with rules? "Rule number one: no one player can have possession of the Vahir for the entirety of the Game." Glares all around were directed to Relena. "Rule number two: no one _team _can have possession of the Vahir for the entirety of the Game." Glares for Heero and Quatre. "Rule number three: no player is to seriously harm another player with the intention of gaining possession of the Vahir. That means no maiming." Glares to Dorothy. "Rule no four: no one—team or player—is to use the facial expressions "puppy dog," "hang dog," or any other with the intention of inspiring pity in other players in order to gain possession of the Vahir." Glares to Heero, Quatre, and Relena. "Finally, rule number five: Heero and Quare are _not _allowed to be on the same team."

"What?" Heero exclaimed. This was an outrage! Who was supposed to be his partner in crime, err, in the Game, if not Quatre?

"I claim Harry!" Quatre shouted, grabbing onto said brother.

"Relena!" Heero claimed soon after. If he couldn't have either of his brothers as his partner, he would have his favorite cousin. And they would _kick. Quatre's. Ass._

Heero grabbed Relena to him, their arms linked. Heero saw Quatre do the same to Harry, on his right, and Tashpi linked arms with Dorothy, on his left. Seeing that the teams were ready, Milly raised the jar and unscrewed the lid.

"Let the Game begin," he said as the Vahir flew out.

Harry watched, mesmerized, as the Vahir was let out of its cage. It was so beautiful as it flew towards the middle of the room, and fast. Like a Snitch. Harry would catch it in no time.

If Harry understood Quatre correctly, the Game was like a kind of magical "Tag." Only you wanted to be "It." Players would chase the Vahir around the playing area—usually much larger than these five rooms—and whenever it was caught, it would spread over the player's body, making it look like he was glowing. In order to get the Vahir away from the "It" person, all Harry had to do was touch them. The Vahir would move to him, and he would be "It." If one person had the Vahir for more than five minutes, it would detach itself and fly away. Whoever was "It" when the Vahir exploded—usually into confetti, but sometimes as rice or candy—won the Game. And the rest of their team, of course.

"Aah! I got it!" Relena screamed from across the room.

To expect your cousin to be blue and to actually see the glow surrounding her, Harry soon discovered, were actually two quite different things. Relena stood behind the couch, jumping up and down in the air, screaming her current victory for all to hear. Her arms, her face, robes, and even her _hair_ were all covered in this blue light. It was like Harry had put on blue-tinted sunglasses, but just for Relena.

That didn't last long, though, as Heero came out from, seemingly, nowhere and tackled her to the ground.

"Argh!" Relena grunted at the now-blue boy. "What'd you do that for? I'm on your team!"

"I've got it! I've got it!" Heero shouted, completely ignoring Relena's complaints. "I've got—oof."

Quatre ran across the room and tackled Heero. When Harry's partner got up, he had possession of the Vahir.

"Way to go, Quat!" Harry yelled, running over to him. They jumped up and down, like they had on the bed earlier, and clapped their hands together. Immediately, Harry could feel something different. He had the Vahir. He looked at his skin. Up close, he could tell that he was in no danger of the Vahir touching his skin. It hovered over him a good two or three inches. Still, though, he could feel its warmth surrounding him.

Satisfied with his inspection, Harry looked up. To find four feral Vanuli creeping up on him. Harry screamed and ran—right into Dorothy. She smirked and looked oddly ethereal in the blue light. But still so very, very Slytherin.

_Never thought I'd see a Slytherin angel_, Harry thought, before taking up the chase again.

For the next thirty minutes, the six younger Vanuli chased one another around and around the five rooms that made up the newcomers' temporary home. Harry counted that he had the Vahir a total of seven times; Quatre had it eleven; Dorothy, nine; Tashpi, eight; Relena, a paltry five; and Heero had it the most, sixteen. Of course, he was more _exuberant_ in acquiring the Vahir than were the others.

Heero currently had the Vahir. He had for a long time. Somehow, when Heero last gained possession of the Vahir, he sprouted wings and flew up to the ceiling. He'd hovered there—occasionally doing little dips and twirls—for almost four and a half minutes.

It was like nothing Harry ever saw before. He'd seen Heero as a full-blown bird, a toucan, back before he knew they were brothers. But never since. And never only _part _bird. Harry likened it to a cross between an Animagus—because of the wing aspect—and a Metamorphmagus—because Tonks, who was one, could change just one particular part of her body, if she so chose. Harry wondered if all Vanuli could do it. He suspected they couldn't because the others remained landlocked, just like Harry.

Then Harry didn't wonder about anything but the Vahir, as Heero reached the five-minute mark. It was a wonder to see the Vahir gathering itself up into a little blue ball again. It shot out, just like earlier, into the middle of their gathering. Harry could see it coming, feel the air _whoosh _as it tore through. With his Seeker reflexes honed to near perfection, Harry grabbed onto Dorothy's shoulder and, using her as leverage, hurled himself into the air.

As soon as Harry hit the ground, he was running. He didn't even wait to make sure he had the Vahir, he just ran and ran and ran to the closed bedroom door. If he could just get in there before the rabid packs caught him, he just might be able to wait out the timer. And win the Game.

Harry grabbed the doorknob and pulled with all his might, semi-surprised when it didn't break off in his hand. Throwing the door against the wall, Harry ran out of the common room. And into the hallway.

Harry thought of going back into his cousins' quarters—he _really _did—but he could feel the Vahir flicker around him—which it didn't ordinarily do—and he could hear the roar of his family behind him. Harry made up his mind and ran away from the rooms, and closer and closer to Hogwarts proper. He ran down long corridors, turned in twisty, out-of-the-way paths, went up and down stairs, and—all in all—took much longer than five minutes. At least, Harry felt that it had to have taken at least six or seven minutes. But apparently, it hadn't because every time Harry looked down, he could see the Vahir surrounding him. It was flickering non-stop but not gathering itself into a ball, like with Heero. Harry took that as a good sign. That it was about to go off.

Harry stepped behind a statue while he caught his breath. He thought he lost the others at _least _two halls ago, but with Relena's nose, he knew they wouldn't be behind for long. Harry counted to ten in his head. At ten, he was running again, with his breath or without it.

_...nine, ten. _Harry breathed deeply and stepped out from behind the statue, only to wish he hadn't.

A man stood with his back to Harry, looking around the hall. Harry couldn't tell who he was, but Harry was extremely aware of his current conspicuous state of being. Harry tried to creep back the way he came—where his family was—quietly, so the man couldn't hear him, to no avail. Harry tripped over the feet of the statue he'd hidden behind, bringing the entire thing clattering down on him. Harry cringed and willed the Vahir to go away before the man saw.

It didn't happen.

The man whirled around at the noise, and Harry let out a sigh of relief. It was only Remus. Remus knew more about Harry, Quatre, Heero, and Dorothy than anyone else in the school. Even more than Professor Dumbledore! When they decided (read: were ordered by the sadistic almost-sister Maddy) to practice using their Sights and Gifts after Quatre's unfortunate mishap, they had to have an adult watch over them, to heal them if necessary, but more importantly, to give them a legitimate reason to be out of their dorms at night. Because Harry already had lessons with Remus the requisite number of nights they had to practice, and because Heero had claimed Remus as one of his "puppies," they'd decided Remus would be their instructor.

And, of course, they had to tell him why. The four Vanuli debated over it for several days, but they finally decided to tell Remus the full, unfettered truth, on the condition that he sign a contract of theirs stating that he would not tell their secrets to anything or anyone, be they living, dead, or inanimate. Or animate, for that matter. Were he to break that contract...well, just say something very not nice would happen to Remus and those he loved and cared about.

Understandably, it took Remus a bit to adjust to the news that his "nephew" wasn't human in the slightest. But adjust, he did. Better than Harry, even, considering that he didn't have the close emotional support of Quatre, Heero, and Dorothy. But Remus came to terms with it, and that made him perfectly safe to be around while playing a Vanuli game.

"Harry?" Remus asked, coming over to look closer. "Harry, is that you? Why are you on the floor? Under a statue?"

Harry held out his arm to Remus, and he barely held back his laughter at the shock on his professor's face.

"Little help, Professor?" Harry said, shaking his arm for emphasis. Remus took the hint and helped Harry to his feet, righting the statue as he did so.

"So," Remus said, after Harry was up and so was the statue, "you mind telling me why you're so blue?"

"We're playing a game," Harry said. The Vahir flickered faster than it ever had, making his skin look a weird purple hue. Harry stared at it, laughing. He looked up at Remus as he felt it go _pop_, spraying the both of them with licorice. "And I guess, I win."

Selune


	21. Jealousy

Disclaimer: I do not own any things Harry Potter—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to the wonderful J. K. Rowling and whomever else she decides. I do not own anything Gundam Wing—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to (I think) Bandai and Sunrise.

Spoilers: This fic contains spoilers for books 1-5 of Harry Potter and all of the episodes of Gundam Wing. This fic does not include Endless Waltz.

Rating: R

Pairings: Neville/Harry, 2x1

Summary: Two years ago, the One Year War ended. At this time, the five heroes—the Gundam pilots—disappeared from the Muggle world. Three of them—pilots 02, 03, and 05—reappeared shortly after in the Wizarding world, as students at Hogwarts School of Witchraft and Wizardry. Now, twenty months after the fact, Heero Yuy and Quatre Winner are coming to Hogwarts, and they're bringing all of their secrets with them. The world—especially one Harry Potter—will never be the same.

Peace, Love, and Family:

The Story of the Vanuli Three

Chapter 20: Jealousy

"Forged in the early 1900s by a blacksmith named Dunn. First owner, Eliza Dunn, his wife, given as a wedding gift. Passed down to the first daughter of every generation until, after a messy and rather expensive divorce, Irma Patterson pawned it for a sum of three Galleons. She failed to recognize that the "diamonds" were, in fact cubic zirconia. It's quite worthless, except as a pretty cup."

Quatre held the goblet in both hands, hunched over it like he was about to take a sip out of it. His eyes were closed, his fingers rubbing circles of clean spots on the dusty stem. Harry was astounded that Quatre could get so much out of a little cup. Then again, Quatre _was_ the best as using his Sight. He better be—he trained himself twice as hard as Heero and Harry combined.

"That's good, Quatre," Remus said, walking down the aisle to clap Harry's brother on the shoulder, startling him out of his concentration. Quatre smiled and started to hand the goblet back to Remus, but the professor stopped him. "Why don't you hold onto that for a minute." It wasn't a question.

Harry couldn't decide if he wanted to rub his hands together and cackle with glee or run screaming for the hills. He knew that what they were going to have to do next, and he both loved and hated it. Loved because it made him feel so _connected_ with his brothers. Hated because the visions were so much more intense—without being all-consuming—when they jumped it.

"Okay, Heero, Harry, who wants to be the first to give it a try?" Remus asked, turning away from the desk at which Quatre was working, toward Harry and Heero.

Heero threw down his own trinket (a love letter from the 1470's; how it survived this long, Harry didn't want to know) and raised his hand high in the air. "Pick _me_, Professor Lupin! I want to try it!"

When Remus motioned for Heero to go on, he practically left smoke in his haste to get to Quatre's side. He sat beside Quatre, purposefully not touching him and looked at Remus expectantly.

"Quatre, I want you to concentrate on the goblet, on the images you get from it," Remus said in a teacherly manner.

Harry fought not to roll his eyes. Everything Remus was saying—which he said _every _night—came straight out of the books Maddy sent over to aid them in their training. Remus didn't know any more about jumping visions than the triplets did. Less, really, because he'd never felt it. The rush as his Sight molded to fit his brother's. Sensing his brother's vision, just out of reach, where he could just barely see it but no make it out clearly. It was a wonderful and heady experience.

Besides, Harry and his brothers had been working on jumping visions for weeks. Nothing had gone wrong yet.

"Okay, good, Quatre," Remus said, backing away from Quatre and Heero. It worked better if it was just the two of them, no one else breathing in their air, messing up their magical rapport. "Grasp the goblet, Quatre." He did so. "Good, now, Heero, take hold of Quatre's hand."

It was amazing to see it from an outsider's perspective. Heero's face lit up, and he started laughing, but he didn't let go of Quatre. Quatre practically glowed, too. Less visibly, though. His face relaxed, and his body slouched closer to Heero.

"What do you see?" Harry couldn't help but ask. He, technically, wasn't supposed to do so, but it never seemed to bother them before.

"The Dunn family," Heero and Quatre said, simultaneously. Harry had to smile at that.

When the triplets first started practicing with their Sights, they did only the traditional training. Crystal balls, scrying, mirrors, touch-sees (touch the object, see the vision). But after a week of that, Maddy sent more books to Quatre with orders to "try any and everything, even if it doesn't work. _Especially_ if it doesn't work."

One of the books, Three Ways of Seeing by Daphne Mancy, was about the purpose and practice of Diviners who practiced in groups of three—one member for each Sight—and about how they would join their visions with one another. There were two ways of doing this. The first—and most difficult—way was to _share _the vision. Person A would actually impose his vision onto Persons B and C in its entirety. Persons B and C would see the vision as if it were their own. It hardly ever worked, and when it did, it was at a great cost to all involved. The second way to join visions, and the more common, was to _jump_ them. Person A—possibly an Oracle of the Past—would get a vision. He would then focus on one important part of the vision—a person, place, feeling, etc.—and concentrate on sending _that _to Persons B and C. They would get a similar vision that related both to the object being touched and what part of the vision on which they were concentrating. In the end, jumping a vision gave three very different but similar pictures of the same viewpoint. They could know where a person was, is, and will be, all at once, with minimal exertion.

"Okay, it's your turn, Harry," Remus said, giving Harry a gentle push in the direction of his brothers.

This would be the first night the triplets attempted to join all three Sight at once. For three weeks—in the Defense Against the Dark Arts classroom, in their bed, in the bathroom, basically anytime they were alone or with people who knew their secret—the triplets practiced jumping their visions in all possible combinations of two. But never had all three of them tried it at once.

Harry took a deep breath and walked over to his brothers. He looked down at them, Quatre with a smile on his face, Heero barely containing his laughter.

_Nothing can harm me when I'm with them_, Harry told himself. He quickly clamped his hands on both of their shoulders, completing the triangle.

The smile fell from his face as the vision caught him. There was dirt all around him. His nose was engulfed with it. He couldn't breathe. Harry tried to scream, but it was cut off by the maggots crawling on his tongue.

Dorothy was, once again, sitting in her favorite cushy chair. She was reading "The Quibbler"—tabloid trash at its most magical—and watching the clock.

Her boys were in training with Professor Lupin, and Dorothy wouldn't be able to see them until 9:30. Their practice wasn't over until 8:45, and they were going to shower and get extra clothes before they went to their cousins' room. Dorothy wasn't allowed at Sight training (though she usually joined them at Gift training and was coming along quite nicely), and she definitely wasn't allowed in the Gryffindor showers.

Normally, Dorothy would be going insane at the thought that she wasn't right by her babies, ready to protect them if they were so much as scratched. And more than willing to de-bone the person or persons that did the scratching. Dorothy was surprisingly calm, though, for two reasons. The first reason being that Professor Lupin was one of Heero's wolves, and if anything were to happen, he would protect her boy. Whether he wanted to or not. It didn't hurt that the professor thought of Harry as a favorite nephew and was growing more and more fond of Quatre every day.

Even with the protection of a wolf, Dorothy would normally be at least a little uneasy. But the second reason for Dorothy's tranquil demeanor—and the more important one—laid to reast any lasting wariness she might have felt. That morning, before the rest of the castle woke, before the sun was even up, Dorothy put down the final piece of the jigsaw puzzle that was her wards. For three weeks, after Quatre's scare with the vision, Dorothy had been plotting a way to make sure her babies would be protected, no matter where she was.

First, Dorothy had gathered spies. It wasn't easy because she couldn't use humans. She needed something small that could be all over the school—or could follow each triplet separately—be easily manipulated and be fairly inconspicuous. It didn't take long for Dorothy to decide on using the bugs on and around campus. She decided to use spiders as a tribute to Heero and "Annette." After that, it was only a matter of imposing her will upon the creatures. A quick whispered, "_Imperio Populus_," and they bowed to her will. After a "_Vester Visus_," she could see everything they could. It took her a few days, but Dorothy eventually got used to seeing through their many eyes. Now it was easy, though she usually turned off the eyes of the spiders who weren't around any of her Niamos, putting them on standby, so they could alert her to anything suspicious.

The second part of Dorothy's plan was to set up wards all around the castle. With the use of her spider slaves, it was a very simple matter. All she had to do was manufacture two pounds of nenutay—a viscous, purple substance that the Vanuli used as both an alarm and a barrier to any unwanted visitors—and they took small bits of it wherever she wanted it. Unfortunately, it took several days to make and had to cool for an additional week until it could be used. It hadn't been done until this morning, and she'd put the wards up as soon as she had woken up. She almost missed breakfast.

Dorothy was glad she hadn't, though. She found it quite amusing when Heero told off the bird—Yinta, Yinau, something like that—and threw the present at it. What was even funnier, Dorothy thought, was Maxwell's expression as he realized what was happening over at Gryffindor central. His face—normally blank, and sometimes even the smiling jester of old—went from "sunny" to "rainy" to "get your kids and run—it's going to be a _big_ one" in the span of 5.3 seconds. If Maxwell was the type to admit it—and if Dorothy remembered correctly of the Relena-stalker fiasco, he wasn't—he was feeling pretty jealous right about then.

"Not jealous, _anxious_," a recognizable voice said from somewhere in the castle.

Another good thing about Dorothy's spider-spies was that they could practically read her mind, so she wouldn't have to read the minds of others. Dorothy withdrew visually and audibly from all but three of her spies, two for her boys, and one on Duo Maxwell and Trowa Barton.

"Sure you aren't," Barton drawled. He was sitting, lounging, really, in a chair in what Dorothy recognized as a Slytherin dorm.

_Probably the seventh years'_, she reasoned._ They're there to have a nice, private chat. Well, too bad 'cause I want to hear._ Dorothy cackled, as all great witches should, and settled back in her chair to enjoy the show. She was bored, and this would alleviate that condition. Plus, whatever she heard would give her leverage over her fellow Slytherins, and that was always a good thing.

"Yeah, that's right," Maxwell said, facing between the door and the chair in which Barton was sitting, "I'm _not_ jealous of that little twink. Not one, teeny-tiny bit."

"Then what _would_ you call it, Duo?" Barton snapped, showing more emotion than Dorothy had ever seen from him. Maxwell opened his mouth to speak, but Barton waved him away. "No, Duo, don't. You've been whining about Heero being with Quatre for almost two years. It's just gotten a lot worse since he's been back. But the evidence, if you can be trusted to give a truthful account of the events, shows that Heero still cares about you, regardless of his relationship with Quatre."

"Yeah, but he—" Maxwell said.

"But nothing," Barton interrupted. "Heero kissed _you_. He had sex with _you_."

_He did?_ Dorothy thought. _I didn't know that. Either my youngest is keeping secrets from me, or something else is going on._

"Whatever else Heero feels, he has quite a healthy dose of lust for you," Barton continued. "And if I know Heero, which, admittedly, isn't as well as I used to, he's probably waiting for you to make the next move. That whole "other suitor" deal may just be a ploy to make you jealous enough to do something about this thing you two have—what you used to have." Barton sighed and looked at his lap.

Dorothy engaged another spider and saw that his face looked tired. His whole body screamed "DEFEATED." It made her uncomfortable, so she pulled away.

"What about Quatre?" Maxwell asked, his voice breaking on the "q."

_This _was the real reason Dorothy listened to them. She needed confirmation of what she expected they thought of Heero and Quatre's relationship, even though it was pretty obvious.

"I can't go up against him and win," Maxwell said, his voice steady once more. "I already lost once; I'll be damned if I'm going to do it again."

"We don't even know conclusively that they _are _lovers," Barton said, the voice of reason once again, even though his eyes still drooped a little at the corners. "If they were, they must not be now. I don't think Heero would pursue you if he was still with Quatre."

"Oh, you don't think!" Maxwell screamed, breaking the tenuous hold on his emotions.

Dorothy thought he'd had control of himself. _I guess I was wrong_, she thought, watching Maxwell's breakdown.

"You don't think Heero Yuy would _dare_ cheat!" He threw a book she didn't realize he was holding. It hit the far wall, just missing Barton's head. "He cheated before! He cheated on me! On _me_!"

That last was loud enough to reach the common room. Dorothy prepared to withdraw from her spy—the show was pretty much over, after all—when Maxwell spoke again. If her spider wasn't right on him, she never would have heard it.

"And, damn it, the bastard, I still love him."

"Aah,," Harry said, finishing drying off his chest before getting dressed. He felt so good to be _clean_ and above-ground.

That vision had been something else. Apparently, Heero and Quatre focused on the word "family" while holding the artifact. Or to be more specific, the Dunn family, who, apparently, were quite numerous in the past and would be again in the future, but who were currently, unfortunately, mostly dead. When Harry jumped the vision with his brothers, he jumped into the dead, decaying body of Eliza Dunn. Yuck.

Harry dressed in his pajamas but put a regular robe on over it. He set to packing a bag with clothes for tomorrow and his Charms and Transfigurations books. They were his first classes in the morning, and Harry didn't plan on having enough time to get them before breakfast. As a last though, he grabbed his toothbrush and shoved it in with the rest.

With his things all packed, Harry had nothing to do but wait until Heero and Quatre were done in the shower. Despite the fact that Harry was the dirtiest of the three—he accidentally brought back some of the dirt from the vision—he knew he still had a good ten or fifteen minutes before either of them would be finished. Something about "earth water being fresher than colony water," if Harry remembered correctly. Knowing that, Harry sat down on his bed to wait.

Harry was so lost in thought a few moments later that he barely noticed Neville come in.

"Going somewhere?" Neville asked, his voice uncharacteristically hard.

Harry sighed. _Great. Just what I needed. A jealous boyfriend._

"Yes, Neville, I am," Harry said slowly, as he had begun to do in the past few weeks. Any time Harry went somewhere with, did anything with, or even spoke to anyone who wasn't Neville, Ron, Hermione, or faculty, Neville would tense up, get all shify-eyed, and clench his fists. It was especially bad if the "anyones" happened to be Quatre and Heero. It was getting quite annoying.

"You're going with _them, _aren't you?" Neville said it like he just swallowed a particularly nauseating Bertie Bott's Every Flavor Bean.

"As a matter of fact, I am," Harry announced, rising from his bed. An argument was brewing, and Harry always felt better if he was on a more level playing field with the other participant. He could almost look straight into Neville's eyes while standing, which was a sight better than when he was sitting. "And so is Dorothy," Harry continued. "We are, with Professor Dumbledore's consent and enthusiasm, going down to the visitors' quarters to have a massive, eight-way _orgy_!"

Neville flinched at the ferocity in Harry's voice. "I'm sorry, Harry," Neville said. He reached out to touch Harry, but Harry jerked away. "I don't mean to be jealous. It's just that they're so—"

"They're so gorgeous, and you're just you. Pudgy, little Longbottom," Harry spat. He crossed his arms defensively. "I've heard it all before. _God_, Neville, what's it going ot take before you believe that I'm not going to cheat on you? How many times do I have to tell you that you're gorgeous _to me_, even if you're not to yourself. I _love_ you," Harry said to him for the first time. He wasn't all that surprised to know it was the truth. "Can't you understand that? I love _you_."

Harry turned away and wiped a trickle of tears off his cheek.

"When you can understand that and are willing to trust me, come talk to me." Harry picked up his bag and left the room. "Please, tell Quatre and Heero I've gone on."

He didn't bother to look back.

__

"That's just _awful_," Relena said, for the twentieth time that night. "I can't believe that. When are humans going to learn that a Vanuli's word is his honor. He—or she, for that matter—isn't going to break it lightly."

"Maybe once they start _keeping_ their word," Lucy said, playfully punching her husband to lighten the mood. As the only human of the eight people in the room—nine, if she counted the unborn Allurna—Lucy felt it her duty to protect the good name of her species. As a soon-to-be mother and a Vanuli by marriage, Lucretzia Noin-Peacecraft felt it her duty to tear out the beating heart of anyone who hurt her family.

Zechs explained that fact to her the same way he explained everything else—way too late. If Lucy didn't love her husband as much as she did, he would have been dead by the end of their wedding reception. Which, coincidentally, was the same time he felt the need to tell her all about magic, the Vanuli, and him being the Minister of Magic. They had some pretty funny pictures of that, including the entire magical wedding party taking a dive into the lake to get away from Noin-zilla. And another of them coming out of it.

"I know what'll cheer you up!" Relena announced, snapping her fingers and jumping off the bed. "A present!"

She ran into the living room, presumably to get whatever it was. If it cheered up this crowd, Lucretzia was all for it. Harry, understandably, had a terribly depressing puppy-dog pout plastered on his face. Heero and Quatre didn't look too much better, both at a loss at to how to cheer up their brother. Dorothy sat in a corner of the bed, chewing her lip. It was the most down Lucy had ever seen her. She couldn't figure out was was bothering Dorothy, though. Normally, she would be jumping for joy—quietly, of course, so as not to offend her Niamo's delicate sensibilities—at the thought of one of her Niamos getting that much closer to not dating a human. Or anyone, really. Tashpi was upset, too, if the expression on her face was an indicator. The fact that she had one was what tipped off Lucy. Tashpi never had any expression other than blank, unless she was sad.

_I wonder what her happy face would look like_, Noin thought, offhandedly. _Relena probably knows._

"Here it is," Relena proclaimed, climbing onto the bed and pushing a big,white box towards Harry. A second look at Relena, and Lucy could tell that her bright was too bright to be real. She was fake-cheery.

Harry looked at the box, then at Relena. The box. Relena. The box. Relena. The box. Relena. "What is it?" he asked.

"Well, I can't tell you that, Harry," Relena said, looking offronted. She grinned, breaking the picture of offense. "Just open it, and you'll see. It's from your mother, Morgan. I just brought it."

Harry smiled, a real one, but small, and opened the box. His smiled widened into a genuine grin when he saw what it was. "Oh, my," he said in awe. He pulled it out of the box.

"Quatre mailed me after a certain "incident" involving dancing, tables, and transfigured robes. He thought it best to get you one. If you compare it to his and Heero's, you'll notice it's almost an exact match. Morgan made them as a set when you were born." Relena said. She scooted over closer to Harry, who was stroking the robe as though it were a new fur coat of the softest mink. Only it was better.

"Okay," Relena said, visibly going into teacher mode. "Now, the history of the Amenea robe is quite intricate. The number of slashes in the skirt in indicative of how many children the mother has when the child is born. The slashes on the arm indicate..."

Relena spoke about the Amenea robe until she went through its entire history.

"I know you don't exactly have a full history of our people," Milliardo said from beside Lucy. "So what do you want to know next?"

"Everything," Harry said, finally looking up from his robe. "I want to know everything."

Selune


	22. Vanuli Kind

Disclaimer: I do not own any things Harry Potter—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to the wonderful J. K. Rowling and whomever else she decides. I do not own anything Gundam Wing—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to (I think) Bandai and Sunrise.

Spoilers: This fic contains spoilers for books 1-5 of Harry Potter and all of the episodes of Gundam Wing. This fic does not include Endless Waltz.

Rating: R

Pairings: Neville/Harry, 2x1

Summary: Two years ago, the One Year War ended. At this time, the five heroes—the Gundam pilots—disappeared from the Muggle world. Three of them—pilots 02, 03, and 05—reappeared shortly after in the Wizarding world, as students at Hogwarts School of Witchraft and Wizardry. Now, twenty months after the fact, Heero Yuy and Quatre Winner are coming to Hogwarts, and they're bringing all of their secrets with them. The world—especially one Harry Potter—will never be the same.

Peace, Love, and Family:

The Story of the Vanuli Three

Chapter 21: Vanuli Kind

"To understand anything about Vanuli culture," Relena said, sitting up tall and proud, so everybody could hear. She liked it that she was the center of attention, even if most everyone in the room knew everything she was going to say. "To understand about us," she reiterated, "or any culture, for that matter, you first need to know how we teach our children." She paused dramatically. She was really getting into this. It was something she would never tell anyone, except for maybe Tashpi or Heero, but she really loved public speaking. Even though she had hated being Queen of the World and all that it had entailed, she'd always loved giving the speeches that came along with it. "Whereas most other advanced cultures teach their children orally or through writing—textbooks and such—the Vanuli do not." Relena stopped to take a breath, and another dramatic pause, and basked in the attention from her family. "Vanuli teach their children through the Amenea."

Relena crawled off the bed. There was practically no standing room, and certainly none for dancing, so she went to the door frame. Relena swung her hips a bit to get started and clapped a slow beat above her head. She began talking as she danced.

"The Amenea, one of which I am demonstrating, is an instinctive dance. A Vanuli can see a particular Amenea for the first time in his life and still be able to do it flawlessly. He would—you would, Harry—hear the words of the Amenea rush at you mind, filling your head with its sweetness. And you would begin to sing.

"Listen, my child, and I'll teach you all you need to know," Relena sang in English for her sister-in-law's benefit. Relena couldn't give the Amena its full justice because she was wearing pajamas. In her Amenea robe, she could hold an audience spellbound. As could all Vanuli. Relena vocalized, letting the sounds and syllables of the Amenea rush through her as she danced the Koratel Amenea, the Teacher's Dance. "Ah ah ah ah ah ah ah."

Relena finished the Amenea and climbed back on the bed. "Sometimes, you will feel compelled to perform an Amenea. You should give in to this feeling, if at all possible, because it will teach you things you need to know. But even if you don't feel the need to join an Amenea already being performed, you should always watch it. You may not learn as much as the performer, but you will learn something."

Relena looked at Harry. This _was_ for his benefit, after all.

"So it's like what happened last full moon," Harry said. "When Heero danced, and I couldn't help myself from doing the same. And why, earlier that day, I could understand the song Quatre and Heero were singing and sing along with them."

"That's right," Quatre said, before Relena could. "Our language and the knowledge of our culture is instinctive. Otherwise, it would take a lifetime to learn it all."

"And with the number of children raised by or mostly by humans, high elves, and the like, at least a third of all Vanuli would never even be able to speak the language," Heero said. Relena could see he was starting to get settled down for the night, being less hyper and more serene. He would be a bit more sane tomorrow, but probably not much.

"Why are so many Vanuli being raised by humans?" Harry asked. "And are they—are we," meaning himself and his brothers, "full Vanuli or half? And why—"

"Whoa, slow down there," Milliardo said. "We can only answer one question at a time."

Relena smirked and quietly handed the reigns over to her brother. Her brother liked the limelight as much as she did, so she would shut up—for now—rather than try to talk over him.

"In order to answer your first question, I'm going to have to tell you about Vanuli mating processes. And in order for you to understand that, you're going to have to know something about the clan system," Milliardo said, his face getting red as he ran out of breath.

Relena didn't envy him the task of telling Harry all the things that they merely took for granted. She would be sure to forget half the things. She already knew that there were sixteen clans divided into three classed—high, middle, and lower. She knew that high class was the Nobles, of which she was a part, and that Nobles became Niamos on their sixteenth Life Day (which, thankfully, her parents raised her as celebrating that day her entire life, so it wasn't an early surprise when Tashpi showed up), a tribute to the clan number, which was a constant for thousands of years. The Nobles consisted of four clans, the Peacecrafts and LeFeys being two. The monarch came from among the strongest of the Noble families. They were crowned on their eighteenth Life Day, the anniversary of the date of conception.

The middle class were the Warriors. They were the army of the Vanuli. Many of the women became Naiyamas for the Nobles. The Warriors were four clans strong, the strongest of which was the Mordals. The weakest was the Kordels—they never quite got over the scandal of their own Vierry Kordel being with her Niamo, Allurna LeFey. Relena sometimes wondered if the same thing would happen to the Mordal clan if she and Tashpi were discovered. She feared it would, but not before Tashpi's execution.

Relena shuddered at the thought of her beloved dying, before shoving it in a file marked "Do Not Open." To get further away from it, Relena turned her attention back to Milliardo.

"And the lower class, the Workers," Milliardo was saying, "make up half of our population, with eight clans and about 4,000 Vanuli."

Relena's eyes panned the gathering. Harry seemed to be the only one listening to Milliardo. Dorothy and Tashpi were talking quietly—and civilly, for once—in a corner of the bed. Quatre was talking to Lucy, occasionally touching her stomach in awe. Heero had his head in Quatre's lap, taking in their conversation and tracing patterns in the quilt. Everybody seemed to be okay, so Relena focused on her brother and Harry again.

"And the mating?" Harry prompted when Milly faltered in his speech. Relena didn't blame her brother. Their system took some getting used to.

"Well," Milliardo began, "there's no really way to put this delicately, but Vanuli are, they kind of—"

"They're sluts," Relena put in matter-of-factly. The boys jumped. They probably hadn't realized she'd been listening.

"Yeah," Milliardo said, visibly putting himself back together. "What she said."

"Why?" Harry asked, after a moment, looking back and forth between Milliardo and Relena.

"Okay," Relena said, after another minute and a half of silence, indicating that she'd take over this nasty bit. "As you've probably already figured out, many Vanuli can be quite promiscuous." Harry nodded his head. That was the definition of a slut, after all. "However, not all are, and certain things are sacred. Marriage, for instance, is still only ever between two people. Though that may change in the next little bit," she murmured that last to herself. Harry didn't need to hear that from her. "Most Vanuli clans, with the exception of us and the Morrigals, both of whom have almost completely died out, actively encourage their members to sleep with as many people as possible, have as many babies as possible. This most likely relates back to the aftermath of the Black Plague, which, like the humans, hit us quite hard."

"So most Vanuli will fuck anything that'll stay still long enough," Milliardo broke in. "Of course, it helps that anything with even a drop of Vanuli blood is completely Vanuli."

"I guess that answers that question," Harry muttered.

"Yeah, I guess so," Relena said. He was as pure as she, and both her parents had been Vanuli. She mentally checked off that question in her head. _One down, two to go._ "We're not really that sure _why_," _Now only one to go_, "but if you have one Vanuli parent, you _will_ be completely Vanuli."

"Yes," Milliardo agreed. "But with all those different partners, it could become quite difficult as to the raising of the children. I mean , even _married_ people have affairs—legal, encouraged affairs, in order to keep the population steady and to make the community tight-knit. It's a rarity to have a closed marriage, where affairs aren't tolerated."

"Therefore," Relena said, "our ancestors had to figure out a system as to whom got what child. What they came up with is a little silly, in my opinion. I would much prefer it if all Vanuli were raised by Vanuli."

"I agree," Milly said. Both of them—as well as the rest of their clan—agreed that open marriages were wrong. That was probably why they were the rest of their clan, and all others were dead.

"Well, what is it?" Harry asked. He clenched his fists in the quilt and leaned forward, almost toppling right onto the Milliardo and Relena.

"Every odd child between one particular coupling would go to the father, and every even would go to the mother," Relena said. "The children belonged to their parents and clan until their eighteenth Life Day, when they could then choose to become a member of the other parent's clan or stay where they were."

"Of course, some didn't have a decision to make!" Milly joked. "What with many Vanuli preferring to—I think the expression is—'keep it in the family.' "

"And of course," Relena said, ignoring her brother, "the same laws went for any human parents, as well. And since we rediscovered that mating with other species wouldn't taint our blood, the number of human-parented Vanuli rose dramatically."

"And _that _answers your questions," Milliardo said, gesturing for added effect.

"That answer _those_ questions," Harry said, "but I have a lot of others. Beginning with, 'what exactly are Naiyamas and Niamos'? And 'why did I never hear of a Vanuli before meeting Heero and Quatre'? And 'why do we have Gifts and Sights'?"

Dorothy's head snapped up when she heard Harry ask about Naiyamas. _Finally! A chance to explain myself in a clear, concise manner, _she thought. She finished her conversation with Tashpi—a regaling account on both their parts about the lengths to which they'd gone to keep their charges safe—and crawled over to her Niamo. She almost felt bad about leaving her sister in the lurch because Dorothy could tell that something was wrong with her. Dorothy shoved those feelings away—_I'm sure she's fine. She's **strong—**_and settled in to explain away. Her thoughts on Maxwell and Heero were likewise put on the back burner for the time being.

"Niamo means 'the protected.' Naiyama means 'the protector,' " Dorothy said. "A Niamo is a Noble child, usually between the ages of sixteen and eighteen, although they can be older than that. Roughly translated—"

"Why?" Harry asked. It was a justifiable question, Dorothy supposed.

"A Naiyama—me, Tashpi, others like us—is chosen on her Niamo's sixteenth Life Day." Dorothy was going to answer this completely, leaving no room for questions from Harry or anyone else. "The Naiyama knows who her Niamo is by a tugging feeling in her abdomen. I can't answer for anyone else, mainly because mine is a unique case, but I felt three distinct tugs. Two however, were together, and they were people I already knew, making it that much stronger. I've always believed that's why I went to Heero and Quatre, instead of coming here to you."

"Oh," Harry said. Dorothy felt better that that part was out of the way. It always bothered her what Harry might think about that, if he might wonder if she loved his brothers more than him.

"A Naiyama," Dorothy said with more confidence than before, now that the burden was lifted from her shoulders, "guides and protects her Niamo until adulthood. When the Niamo reaches adulthood, traditionally the eighteenth Life Day, the Naiyama releases her Niamo into society. However, occasionally, the Naiyama will feel that her Niamo is not ready to be an adult, so she will refuse to release him. And sometimes, the Niamo just doesn't _want _to be an adult. I've known Niamos who were ninety years old."

"What happens," Harry asked, "if the Naiyama thinks his Niamo isn't ready, but the Niamo does?"

"All Niamos are female," Quatre tossed out, before going back to his conversation with Lucy.

"Why?" Harry asked.

"It has always been that way," Tashpi said from the darkened corner in which she still sat.

"Oh," Harry said. Dorothy knew it was a non-answer, but she didn't have a better one. "Well, then, what about my question?"

"The Niamo can either except the Naiyama's decision, or he may call upon the Rite of Kaigel," Tashpi said. "It is an ancient ritual, wherein the Niamo must kill his Naiyama, with his bare hands. No magic allowed. If he succeeds, he is declared an adult."

"Sounds barbaric," Harry said, wrinkling his nose.

"Indeed," Tashpi said. She turned away from the group and went back to her own thoughts. She wasn't looking at anyone, but Dorothy could tell she was keeping her eye on Relena.

"So that's it then?" Harry said. "You protect us and then set us free, like returning a zoo animal to the wild?"

"No," Dorothy said, alarmed. That wasn't it at all! The Naiyama/Niamo relationship was a special one, like that of a parent and a child. It usually replaced that relationship, actually, due to the large number of children most Vanuli had, and the consequent lack of time to spend with each child. Dorothy told Harry all of this. "Being a Naiyama is a breathtaking experience and an honor. My whole life revolves around you and your brothers. I would protect you with my last dying breath, resurrect myself, and kick the ass of whoever was hurting you.

"When I'm not with you, I worry about your safety constantly. I hate not being in the same House as you because I could watch you so much better there. My whole life revolves around you. Literally."

"What would happen to you if we were gone?" Harry asked, his face all wide-eyed and innocent. He didn't know what he was asking. Everyone froze at his comment, Dorothy especially. He had just asked about her greatest nightmare, every Naiyama's greatest nightmare.

Dorothy took her time in answering. Even thinking about it had her close to hyperventilating. "I would go insane," she said finally. "My world would be gone, and I would grieve as no mother ever could. The oceans could flood the island, great earthquakes could shake the ground underneath me, long dormant volcanoes could erupt with a passion never before known. I would not recognize any of it. My tears would be more plentiful than the floods, my magic more unstable than the rocks, and my anger more potent than the lava. I would be a woman aggrieved. I would be insane. And I would be quite dangerous."

"Well," Relena said, clapping her hands.

It startled Harry after the grimness with which Dorothy had engulfed the room. If he had known the answer, he never would have asked the question.

"Why don't we have some refreshments now?' Relena asked.

Harry leaned back on his brothers, who had moved against him during Dorothy's speech. He needed their comfort after that. He really shouldn't have asked, should have known it was a touchy subject.

"What kind of refreshments?" Heero asked. He was less energetic than earlier in the day, but he still had some of that puppy playfulness in him. Apparently, though (and Harry had checked it with Remus), Heero would act more and more lusty and less and less playful as the week went on. Harry didn't know if that was a good thing or not. "Are they the tasty kind?"

"Of _course_, they're the tasty kind," Relena said. Harry must have been even more lost in thought than he thought because she was standing in the middle of the bed, holding a jarful of what looked like very large beetles. "Most are really old, but I brought some younger ones for you, too, Heero." Relena passed the jar around, and everyone took one.

When the jar got to Harry, he cautiously picked one up with only his thumb and forefinger. It was still alive and smelled awful. "Ugh!" Harry gagged as he accidentally squeezed it too hard. Green pus came out and trickled down Harry's finger. "What _are _these?" he asked, holding it away from him.

"Bellarmees," Quatre answered matter-of-factly. He was sitting to Harry's right, holding his bug as Harry was. Everyone moved to sit in a circle on the bed, and after everyone got a bug, Relena started passing around a vial. "They're quite tasty. Especially the old ones—the closer to death they begin, the juicier they are. Unfortunately..."

The vial was handed to Quatre. Quatre handed his Bellarmee to Lucy, who was on his right, and opened the lid. There was some type of strainer on the top, and Quatre pressed it on the inside of his wrist. He motioned for Harry to do the same after exchanging Harry's bug for the vial. Harry did so and passed it to Heero for another Bellarmee.

"Unfortunately," Quatre said, "they are quite poisonous in their original state. So we use this," Quatre raised his left wrist, "to neutralize the poison. Wait until the anti-venom turns blue, then lick it. Then swallow the Bellarmee whole."

_Whole?_ Harry thought, looking at it. It was huge. "There's no way this thing is fitting down my throat."

"Then just make it bigger," Heero said, joining the conversation. "That's what I always do."

"And just how do you propose I do that?" Harry asked with his very own special blend of curiosity and aggravation.

"Vanuli are amorphous," Heero said, as if that explained everything. Maybe it did—Harry didn't know what 'amorphous' was. He looked blankly at his brother, and eventually Heero continued. "Vanuli have no shape of their own. If we didn't take on the appearance of other species, we'd be so many blobs of goo floating around in the atmosphere. We can change our appearance—our sex, even—at will."

"And how is this going to help me swallow this bug?" Harry asked after a few moments. He didn't know _how_ to change shape, even if he had the ability. _Or even want to,_ he thought, eyeing the bug with disgust.

"Think snake," Heero said. He licked his wrist—it was blue—and then Harry got a first hand demonstration of how to eat these things. Heero's throat elongated—not that much, but enough to be noticeable—and he put the Bellarmee in his mouth. He swallowed once, and Harry could only see half of the bug. Two, three, four swallows, and the bug was completely gone. Heero purred with contentment.

Heero eyed his wrist and his Bellarmee. _Might as well,_ he thought. He tried to "think snake," like Heero said, but not too much. He didn't want to get stuck like that, and he wasn't sure that, if he could do it, he would be able to get himself back. _Well, _C'est la vie, he thought.

Harry licked his blue wrist, closed his eyes, and put the Bellarmee in his mouth. He swallowed once, and it started going down his throat. _God_, it was big. It's pinchers—or something that felt like pinchers—nipped at the walls of his esophagus, its feet burning a trail down his throat. Harry swallowed four times, like Heero, and the fire moved down to his belly.

_I guess that's it, _Harry thought, disappointed. _Why would anyone want to eat those?_

The fire in his belly grew, and Harry put a hand over his stomach, as if to hold it in. He could feel the Bellarmee running around inside him, frantic skittering up and down inside himself. Its frenzy rose higher and higher, the skittering was faster and faster. Harry didn't know how much more he could take. It hurt. It _hurt_. Harry doubled over onto the bed. He gave out a cry of pain at the inner movement of the the strange bug.

The Bellarmee stopped moving. Harry could practically _feel_ it thinking what to do next. It made up its mind and moved up against his throat. _It was climbing out!_ The Bellarmee climbed up his throat. It entered his mouth again, and skittered across his tongue. It didn't hurt anymore. It actually kind of tickled. Harry wanted to laugh, but he knew instinctively that he shouldn't. He swallowed again, again, again. It reach his stomach again.

Harry could tell there was something different this time. It stilled. Harry could hear a ticking, like a clock. _Tick, tick, tick, tick, tick._ Harry swayed to the rhythm, waiting for whatever it was he was supposed to be waiting for. He didn't have long to wait. It ticked twelve more times and simply stopped. Harry could feel it fall—dead—in his stomach.

The rush of flavor Harry got as the bug let out it juices was almost too much for him. It was the best thing he'd ever tasted, and that was only the backwash of gases from the Bellarmee. He wondered how intense the taste would be if he had bit into it. Harry purred at the thought.

"See," Quatre said. "I told you they were good." He sat back with a smug smile on his face.

Harry looked back at him. "Yeah," he said, "very good. But is it always such an ordeal?"

"That was my fault," Heero said, sheepishly. "I picked out the youngest of the bunch. The older ones usually die quicker, and they taste better."

"Then why did you get the youngest?" Harry asked. It was an obvious question, he thought.

"Let's just say he got one once that was _too _old," Quatre said. "Apparently, it's not all that tasty if it dies on the way down."

"No, it's not," Heero said. He looked around the circle. "You know what would make this even better? Some Booamyie."

He said it at just the right time. Relena passed out these flowery cups—which actually were flowers, they'd just been strengthened to hold the liquid and had a base attached; the petals were still fresh—and a bottle of red liquid with pink fumes coming from it. The jar of Bellarmees and the anti-venom were being passed around the other way.

Harry got both at once. _What the hell?_ he thought when he got the Booamyie. He'd been proven wrong on the Bellarmees, this was probably tasty too. He licked his once more blue wrist, swallowed the Bellarmee, and chased it with a gulp of Booamyie. Around him, his family members did the same.

Selune


	23. Belles of the Ball

Disclaimer: I do not own any things Harry Potter—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to the wonderful J. K. Rowling and whomever else she decides. I do not own anything Gundam Wing—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to (I think) Bandai and Sunrise.

Spoilers: This fic contains spoilers for books 1-5 of Harry Potter and all of the episodes of Gundam Wing. This fic does not include Endless Waltz.

Rating: R

Pairings: Neville/Harry, 2x1

Summary: Two years ago, the One Year War ended. At this time, the five heroes—the Gundam pilots—disappeared from the Muggle world. Three of them—pilots 02, 03, and 05—reappeared shortly after in the Wizarding world, as students at Hogwarts School of Witchraft and Wizardry. Now, twenty months after the fact, Heero Yuy and Quatre Winner are coming to Hogwarts, and they're bringing all of their secrets with them. The world—especially one Harry Potter—will never be the same.

Peace, Love, and Family:

The Story of the Vanuli Three

Chapter 22: Belles of the Ball

"Are you through primping your hair?" Heero asked. Harry had been standing in front of the mirror for ten minutes, trying to get it to lay flat. "It's not like you're going to wear it like that, anyway. It's got to be longer, to match the rest of us."

"Oh, leave him alone," Quatre said, sitting on a stool behind Heero. He was tugging his boots on, newly long hair falling into his eyes every time he leaned over.

"That's easy for you to say," Heero said. "All you've got left to do are your wings and mask. Even your make-up's on." Heero stood in his stocking feet. He only had his toga on. He didn't even have his shoes on! Heero had so much left to do to be ready for the party.

"Boys, boys, calm down," Dorothy said. She stood in a slip. Her hair was the only thing done, and Heero felt better that he wasn't the only one no where near ready.

It was Halloween night, the night of S.P.E.W.'s Masquerade Ball. It was all anyone had talked about for the past week. Who was wearing what, who was going with whom, and what House was likely to have the best after party. It was even money between Slytherin and Gryffindor. The ball was so important in the minds of Heero and the other sixth and seventh years that it was barely talked about when McGonagall practically took a bite out of Trelawny during breakfast one day. The Divinations professor had actually come to a meal for once and apparently said something to which McGonagall took offense.

Heero, his brothers, and Dorothy had started working on their costumes weeks ago, as soon as the first flyers were put up. They were going as fairies, but not just any fairies. They were going as the Gentry. The Gentry were closely related to the sidhe, except they were shorter and had wings. Harry had actually been the one to suggest it, thinking how ironic it would be for three people whose last name actually translated as "the fairy" to dress as such. And they couldn't exactly leave Dorothy out of it, so they were a quartet of glowing, glittery people.

"Here let me," Heero said as he saw Harry struggle with putting his wings on. Quatre had sewed the fabric together into wings, Heero had transfigured the fabric into real wing tissue, and Harry had charmed them to actually move with the shoulder blades. But they were a bitch to get on, being over five feet in length and weighing about twenty pounds.

With his wings on, all Harry had to do was grow his hair—a simple _Comaugeo_ and it was kneelength—and put on his mask. The mask covered half of Harry's face, and it reminded Heero of the mask Milliardo wore during the war. The other half of his face—the left, as all of their masks covered the right side—was covered in dramatic make-up straight out of _Cirque de Soleil._ His lips were ruby red, his cheeks flushed pink with blush. The best thing was his eye make-up. Blue and glittery, it covered his entire eyelid and quite a bit of the under-eye as well. The eye shadow stretched out in a triangle to his left temple. With all of the make-up, Heero doubted anyone would recognize Harry even without the mask.

Finally, Harry got off the stool in front of the mirror and went to find his shoes. Whereas Dorothy and Quatre were wearing white patent-leather go-go boots, Heero and Harry were going to wear white sandals that laced up their legs, almost reaching their knees.

Heero went to the mirror. It was the only mirror in the room, which seemed to be a long abandoned girls' powder room on the third floor, if the over abundance of pink was any indicator. Dorothy found it sometime—she wouldn't say when—and brought Heero and his brothers here so they could all get dressed without anyone finding out what their costumes were.

Heero took a good look at himself and estimated how long it would take him to get ready. _Surely, no longer that forty minutes, _he thought. Smiling at his reflection, Heero began applying his make-up.

Quatre smiled and held his brother's hands as they walked toward the Great Hall. They were entering together, and they were going to stun all their yearmates and the sixth years. Quatre could admit it; the four of them looked ravishing.

He and Dorothy were dressed alike. Their togas, done up in Grecian style, were white as the driven snow. Their arms were bare, except for platinum armbands they were on their right biceps. Their white shoes—with just a bit of a heel, making Quatre taller than his brothers, for once—came up to just below their knees. Their eye shadow was robin's egg blue, dramatic even in pastel. Their lips were the color of orchids. Their wings were the crowning glory, though. Spanning five feet, they were the same shades as Quatre's and Dorothy's make-up. they looked delicate, as if a strong wind could break them, but they were strong. And they were beautiful.

Like Quatre and Dorothy, Heero and Harry dressed alike. Their togas, unlike Quatre's, had semi-sleeves that laced down their arms. They were a ribbon-like material that attached to the toga at the shoulder. Heero and Harry wore white sandals that laced up to their knees, the laces being of the same material as the sleeves. Heero's and Harry's make-up was darker than Quatre's and Dorothy's, done up in red and midnight blue, the end result making them appear more sensual. Their wings, like Quatre's, were in the same shades as their make-up.

All of their wings had the same basic pattern, swirls and curlicues and squiggles all over the place, even though Heero had opted to grow his own wings instead of wearing the fake ones. Quatre couldn't think of any reason he would want to do that. Quatre was very comfortable in his own body, thank you very much. No changes allowed.

"Are you ready?" Dorothy asked. She was the first in their train of fairies, Heero standing behind her, then Quatre, and Harry bringing up the caboose. All three brothers nodded at her. "Okay, then, wings up!"

Quatre flapped his wings, getting ready to take off when Dorothy opened the door. Heero and Harry did the same. Dorothy opened the door, and they flew in formation.

Harry stared at the Great Hall as he flew in. It looked better than for the Yule Ball in fourth year. He was more amazed than he probably should be, given that, as a member of S.P.E.W., he had to help Hermione set it up after classes and during dinner. When everyone else was eating in the dorms, they and a handful of others hung streamers, moved tables, transfigured chairs, and sliced, diced, and baked hors d'ouevres. Neville had been one of the others.

Harry and Neville hadn't really talked since their fight a couple of weeks ago. It wasn't that Harry didn't want to be with Neville. He really did. He just hated how jealous Neville got. Harry vowed to find his wayward boyfriend (ex-boyfriend?) and chat him up. They _would _get through this, and everything would be peachy.

The little stunt Dorothy suggested a few days ago worked. Everyone stared at them as they flew into the center of the room. The wings weren't great, seeing as how they weren't real, but they could work just as well as their authentic counterparts over short distances. Harry admired Heero's ability to actually grow wings out of his back, and intellectually, he knew he had that ability, too. He just wasn't ready yet to try it out.

The Pied Piper—how Hermione got him to come, Harry didn't know—started up a new song as Harry touched ground. As they'd rehearsed, Harry found Heero and began dancing with him. They danced a slow waltz, even though the song was a fast one. As they danced, Harry realized Heero wore a clip in his hair made of crystal. It was the only present Heero accepted from Zetoth, who gave it to him after a serenade during Care of Magical Creatures on Monday.

The song ended, and Harry broke away to dance with Dorothy. Heero and Quatre waltzed beside them, the only other couple dancing. Harry could hear the whispered 'who're they?'s and the 'why are they dancing like that?'s and the 'what _is _that they're wearing?'s. Harry smiled to himself and continued to dance. When the second song ended, Harry broke with Dorothy and twirled to catch Quatre.

What they did was a fairly old Vanuli ritual. The flying in was their own design, but it was a Vanulian tradition to dance formally with every other unmarried attendant Vanuli, before the down and dirty stuff began. There were very few humans who knew about this ritual, or any Vanuli ritual, for that matter, so Harry and the others were confident that they could get away with it without anyone figuring out they were Vanuli.

At the end of the last slow song, it was traditional for a Vanuli to seek his favorite partner and dance with her for the rest of the night. Harry planned to do that, just not with his brothers or Naiyama. Harry searched the room, flying a little above the crowd, like an eagle circling for prey. Down at the food table, Harry spotted Neville dressed all in green. Harry landed and practically sprinted over to him.

"Hi," Harry said to Neville's back, making him jump.

"Don't _do _that!" Neville exclaimed, turning around. His mouth gaped open when he saw Harry, pudding almost falling out of his mouth.

Harry gently closed Neville's mouth and wiped a spot of pudding off the corner of it. "We need to talk," Harry said. He could see the cogs working in Neville's mind as he figured out exactly who Harry was. Neville scowled, and Harry figured he'd figured it out.

"I've nothing to talk to you about," Neville said, trying to walk past Harry.

"Please," Harry begged, putting a hand on Neville's chest to stop him, "just for a little bit. There's something we—I mean, me and the others," Harry turned to look back where his family had been. Only Dorothy was there, now, dancing by herself. It was just a regular dance, though. There were to be no Ameneas tonight. "We have an announcement to make tonight, but I want to tell you beforehand, give you a little more information than the general public."

"Why should I?" Neville snapped, his face angrier than Harry had ever seen him. Harry almost gave up then, but he loved Neville too much to just throw away everything.

"Please, Neville," Harry said, tugging at the fabric of Neville's shirt. "Please."

Neville must have seen something he wanted to see because he relented. "Okay," Neville said. "But not here. We'll go to the greenhouses. Professor Sprout gave me the password to open them at night."

"Okay," Harry agreed. Neville must want to be on his own territory. Not necessarily a good thing, but Harry would just settle for getting to talk to him at all. Neville started walking away, and Harry followed.

Harry tried to get one of his brothers' attention to tell them he was leaving, but he couldn't find them. And Dorothy had somehow disappeared from the dance floor. Harry sighed and went anyway. Surely, they could find him if they really needed to.

Dorothy felt herself get lost in the throng of dancing bodies. A song or twelve ago, the humans had gotten up enough courage to dance around her. As the rhythm of the song got faster and more wild, so did those dancing around her. One of them—a tall, black Gryffindor who seemed vaguely familiar—actually asked to dance with her. She turned him down, of course, but she had to admit she was impressed with his courage. She just didn't have time to be dancing with boys who weren't her own.

In light of the occasion—and the fact that anyone out of diapers was in the Great Hall—Dorothy turned off most of her spider-spies, leaving only those watching her Niamos, a few at the entrance gate, and a few more spread out in the Great Hall. If the spiders were less active, the opportunity for her getting caught with them was diminished. Doing so allowed to her watch her boys more closely, anyway, with less eyes to divide her attention.

Quatre talked to a Ravenclaw girl near the stage about a brand new potion that was going to revolutionize the cancer care field. It could seek out specific types of cells and instead of killing them, it actually changed the structure, making them healthy again. Or something like that. Dorothy didn't pay too much attention to conversations as long as her boys were safe. Besides, Quatre was most likely praising the potion so highly because his sister invented it.

Heero camped out at the punchbowl, pretending not to watch the Grim Reaper three feet to his left. _It must be Maxwell, _Dorothy thought. Even after two weeks, Dorothy hadn't found out what Maxwell meant when he said he slept with Heero. Surely, if it was anytime recently, Heero wouldn't be able to hide it. She would figure it out eventually.

But in the meantime, Harry was... Where was Harry? Dorothy couldn't see him. He wasn't in the Great Hall. Dorothy stopped dancing, forcing herself to remain calm. Panicking would not help at a time like this. So she couldn't find Harry? Fine. She would just activate more spiders. She pushed her way out of the crowd, shoving anyone who didn't move voluntarily. She went over to the chairs and tables, pushed someone out of the nearest seat, and sat down.

_Where could Harry be? _she asked herself, systematically checking off spots as her spies searched them. He wasn't in Gryffindor Tower. Or in the Room of Requirement. Or in the Hospital Wing. He wasn't in Slytherin, though Dorothy had no idea why he would want to be. It was drafty in the dungeons. Harry wasn't in Ravenclaw or Hufflepuff. He wasn't in any of the used classrooms. Or the unused ones. He wasn't anywhere in the castle.

Dorothy could feel herself start to panic. _Where could he be?_ Forcing herself to take deep, steady breaths calmed her down a little bit, but not much. _He's not inside the castle, so he must be outside of it, somewhere. Maybe he's outside. The Quidditch pitch! Maybe he's there._ Dorothy leapt up at her burst of genius. She paced over to the food area while ordering a horde of spiders to check outside—even the Forbidden Forest. She hoped her influence would hold that far.

_Crunch_.

Dorothy stopped pacing to look at what she'd stepped on. A spider, already dead from the looks of it. Probably the culprit that lost her boy.

Dorothy focused once again on her spiders. Spider 673 saw a couple necking in the garden. _Maybe that's him,, _she thought, ordering the spider to get closer. It wasn't them, but it did give Dorothy an idea. Harry had been complaining about his boyfriend, a Herbology freak, for some time now.

_Where might a wanna-be Herbologist go to kiss and make up?_ she thought. _Why, where he fells safe. And where would he feel safe? Perhaps, perhaps, the greenhouses._

Dorothy ordered every free spider to get over there. It didn't take long after that, and she found them. Harry and Longbottom, chatting it up. Dorothy knew it wasn't any of her business, but after the scare Harry gave her, he deserved to be spied on.

"You would seriously make me choose?" Harry asked. He licked his lips the same way he did when Heero or Quatre did or said something absolutely ridiculous. "Surely, you're joking. After I told you what they mean to me. It would be stupid to ask such a thing."

"Then I guess I'm stupid, Harry," Neville said. They were sitting on a newly installed bench inside Greenhouse 3. There was nothing dangerous around them. Neville played with some type of vine curled up on his shoulder. He didn't look at Harry. "I've seen the way you look at them, eyes glazed over with lust. Hell, Harry, _I _lust after them, and I can barely stand them. They're your friends. I don't see how you can resist that."

"So that's it then?" Harry asked. He had tears in his eyes, but he brushed them away before Neville saw. "You have no willpower, so nobody else must either?"

It pissed off Dorothy to no end. No human, no _anything_ was allowed to hurt her Harry like that. She wouldn't let it happen. Checking on her other two boys again, Dorothy stormed out of the Great Hall.

Hell hath no fury—nor gives out punishments—quite like a momma whose baby has been scorned.

Heero stared at Duo's back. It was a nice back, firm and lean. Heero wanted to touch it, wanted to glide his hands over it as Duo made love to him, wanted to lick and nibble it. It was a nice back. It was such a shame Duo covered it with a hump. Standing next to the Grim Reaper—better known as Trowa Barton—stood Quasimodo, the bell ringer. Even under the cloth and padding, Heero could tell it was a nice back.

The butt wasn't too bad, either.

Heero longed to go over an take Duo in his arms. Kiss him nice and good. The fairy and the freak, locked in love's warm embrace. He didn't dare, though. Not in front of all these people. And definitely not tonight.

Tonight, Heero had a vision to fulfill. it came to him, like a Gundam bellyflopping in the ocean, when he flew into the Great Hall. It made Heero glad he listened to his instincts when getting dressed and didn't wear the fake wings, growing his own instead. It made him happy he always wore his anklet, too. Every little bit would help.

Heero was poked on the shoulder, and he jumped, startled. He turned around to see Quatre holding out his hand.

"Want to dance, brother," Quatre asked.

Heero nodded and took Quatre's hand. _It won't be long now,_ he thought, spying Daemon dancing with a brunette not to far from them. _Daphne. Daphne Greengrass, _Heero thought about the girl.

He had to get in position. Heero and Quatre entered the throng of dancers, and it instantly parted. Probably because of Quatre's blonde hair. Earlier, Heero had seen Dorothy shoving people left, right, and down to get off the dance floor. Quatre looked remarkably like her in his costume.

"How should we dance?" Quatre whispered in Heero's ear.

"Let's just let the song take us where it wants us to go," Heero said as the Pied Piper went into a beautiful rendition of "Jekyll, Hyde, and the Werewolf." It was a dangerous way for them to dance in this crowd of unknowing humans. Heero was willing to risk that he and Quatre could refrain from changing their dancing into a full blown Amenea.

It wouldn't be that long, now, anyway, until Heero's vision came true.

"Oh, oh god," Harry moaned. Neville's head was in his lap, doing things he _never_ thought Neville would do. "Neville, aah, Neville," he panted.

The two had made up spectacularly fast after Harry almost cried. Neville had never seen him cry, and it drove home to Neville how much he meant to Harry. That, coupled with a fantastic snog session and what Neville was doing now made Harry quite sure they were back together.

Neville was still fully clothed in what he said was a real nineteenth century Master Herbologist uniform. His great-great-something or other grandad wore it. Harry was fully clothed, too, and he'd never been happier to wear what pretty much amounted to a skirt. Neville had just flipped it up and started going at it. Rather, at _him._

"God, do that again," Harry said when Neville licked him. Neville did so, and Harry jerked with pleasure. He'd never had a blow job before. All he and Neville ever did before was kiss.

"I'm-I'm gonna—" he said before coming. Neville pulled back just in time. Neville muttered a cleaning spell on both of them before pulling himself up to sit on the bench beside Harry. Harry slumped against its back, panting slightly.

"_God_, that was good," Harry said when he could breathe properly. "If that's the kiss and make up part, let's fight every day." Harry pulled Neville onto him for a kiss. It tasted salty, but otherwise, not too bad. He grinned lecherously at his boyfriend. "On the other hand, we could just skip the fight and go straight to the make up."

Harry groped under Neville's tunic and found his length, standing at attention. Harry pulled at it, stroking it with one hand, and tried to find the zipper with the other. Neville's pants grew harsher as Harry jerked him off, dragging Harry's other hand onto his length.

"This is fine," he said, panting. "The zip's in the back."

Harry wanked Neville with both hands over his costume. He got down from the bench and kneeled on the ground, like Neville had before. Harry put his mouth over Neville's clothed erection, sucking as much as he could with the costume still on.

"Here," Neville said, rolling down his pants when Harry lifted his head. He must have unzipped them while Harry was...otherwise occupied.

Harry stared at Neville's swollen length. He tentatively put his hands on it, stroking up and down. Neville's hand tangled in the back of Harry's hair, and Harry knelt in to suck at Neville's length. It wasn't the best tasting thing in the world, but Neville liked it. It didn't taste _too _bad, at least. Harry sucked at the top of Neville, and his hands took care of everything else. Neville didn't mind much, if his moaning and panting were indications.

"Oh, Merlin," Neville moaned one last time and came in Harry's throat.

Quatre could tell something was up with Heero. He was acting strangely, looking at the band and the other dancers every three minutes. Quatre had timed it. He was going to find out what the problem was.

"Heero," Quatre said in his serious "I know something's up, so don't even try to lie" voice. "What are are you doing?"

"What do you mean?" Heero said, his eyes jerking back to rest on Quatre. "I'm dancing."

"I know something's the matter," Quatre said. He stopped dancing, forcing Heero to stop, too. "Tell me."

Dorothy ran out of the castle. It didn't take her long to get to the greenhouses, but when she did, she decided not to go in. No mother want to see her child's sex life in surround sound, high definition reality. She turned away, started to walk back to the castle. She still had about an hour until the unmasking.

When Dorothy reached the castle, she looked back at the grounds. If asked, she wouldn't be able to say why, she just felt as if she had to. It was a good thing she did, though. In the distance, she saw a yellow light. It was pretty, but it shouldn't be there. Dorothy knew where all the outside lights were, and there definitely wasn't one there, unless it was a recent addition. Dorothy walked back on the grass to get a better look at it, but she didn't have to.

_My God, _she thought as she figured out what it was. _Harry!_ Dorothy ran in the direction of the greenhouse to save her Niamo.

Too late, she realized it wasn't following her, it wasn't going toward the greenhouse. But that meant—

_Heero. Quatre._

"Come on, Heero," Quatre said, staring into his brother's eyes. Heero had the poker face of a champion, but his eyes could never hide his feelings. "Tell me what's wrong.'

"Okay," Heero said, turning his head away from Quatre to scan the room. Quatre didn't like it—Heero never gave up that easily. "I had a vision."

_Oh._ Well, that would explain Heero's behavior. A little, anyway. Especially if it was supposed to happen soon. "What kind of vison?" Quatre asked. It had to be pretty bad, if it got Heero this worked up.

"It's pretty bad," Heero said. He started them dancing again when a couple bumped into them, cursing at them to get out of the way.

"Tell me about it," Quatre said, putting his head on Heero's shoulder, drawing his brother close to him. "It usually helps to talk about it." Heero knew this, of course. It was the first thing in the books they'd been reading. Quatre felt Heero turn his head again to look at the crowd again. "Tell me in Japanese, then, if you're worried about someone hearing."

"I can't," Heero said. Quatre felt liquid trickling down his neck. Heero was crying. "I'm sorry."

The pain came to Quatre unexpectedly, originating at his waist, where Heero held him, spreading throughout his body. He was on fire. It felt like an electrical shock, like he got once when he was little and put his finger in an outlet. It came from Heero, and that in itself was unbelievable. Heero had never purposefully hurt Quatre. It was unthinkable.

Heero let go, and the pain stopped, except for the aftershocks. It made Quatre stumble, the combination of the loss of support and electricity. Quatre saw Heero's face as he fell in the crowd of dancing bodies. He was crying, but not much. His eye shadow was slightly smudged, the triangle becoming more of a blob.

Heero said it once more, "I'm sorry," and he flew up, out of Quatre's line of sight.

The world exploded into a brilliant yellow light, and Quatre felt, rather than saw, the broken wings as Heero crashed down.

Selune


	24. The Attack

Disclaimer: I do not own any things Harry Potter—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to the wonderful J. K. Rowling and whomever else she decides. I do not own anything Gundam Wing—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to (I think) Bandai and Sunrise.

Spoilers: This fic contains spoilers for books 1-5 of Harry Potter and all of the episodes of Gundam Wing. This fic does not include Endless Waltz.

Rating: R

Pairings: Neville/Harry, 2x1

Summary: Two years ago, the One Year War ended. At this time, the five heroes—the Gundam pilots—disappeared from the Muggle world. Three of them—pilots 02, 03, and 05—reappeared shortly after in the Wizarding world, as students at Hogwarts School of Witchraft and Wizardry. Now, twenty months after the fact, Heero Yuy and Quatre Winner are coming to Hogwarts, and they're bringing all of their secrets with them. The world—especially one Harry Potter—will never be the same.

Peace, Love, and Family:

The Story of the Vanuli Three

Chapter 23: The Attack

Daemon Rosencrantz thought of himself as a good person. He always tried to do the right thing, unless the right thing was completely opposite of what he wanted to do. Daemon used to have friends. Ten good ones and one great one. Once, Daemon made a choice that sacrificed the one great friend for the benefit of the ten good ones. It had been the right thing to do, one life for ten, but it hadn't been what he'd _wanted_ to do. He never really forgave himself for it, even after the ten good friends did. Daemon was a leader, and leaders had to make tough decisions, sometimes.

Daemon eventually found out that his great friend lived—thrived, in fact—as the lead weapon in Daemon's superior's arsenal. It made Daemon happy to learn that, even though he had been sad before when the honor passed him up. Daemon watched the news religiously after that, his heart jumping in his throat every time his friend was shown. It was a dangerous job his friend had, but he was good at it.

Daemon came to love his friend once again, through the television. He came to know his friend and respect him. Daemon's friend seemed happy, even in the midst of war. His friend was in love. Daemon recognized the look on his friend's face. It was how his friend used to look at Daemon, before Daemon hurt him.

Daemon was happy that his friend was happy, and it made him think. Maybe his friend would forgive him, since it was Daemon's betrayal that ultimately brought him his happiness. When Daemon finally saw his friend, though, he wasn't happy anymore. The one his friend loved did not love him back. Daemon tried for forgiveness, anyway, but he was rejected. Daemon's friend told him there was only one way possible to gain his forgiveness, regain his friendship. An impossible way.

It was this want, this _need_ that drove Daemon through the crowd of underage wizards and witches when his friend fell from the sky. Amid the thoughts of _he wouldn't dare_ and _he promised me he wouldn't hurt him_ and _oh, god, there's so much blood_, came the thought _this is my chance. If I help him now, he'll have to forgive me._

Daemon picked Heero's upper body off the floor, brutallly shoving the wings away. They were just part of the costume and could be treated as such. Heero moaned and whispered something. Daemon didn't catch it.

There was so much blood—it covered the entire front of Heero's costume, and part of the back. Daemon could feel the sticky blood on Heero's back. Daemon didn't know how he could help Heero; his wand was somewhere near the stage. Heero was dying, again, and Daemon didn't know how to save him, again.

Daemon held Heero's head, stroking his blood-soaked hair. He was reminded of another time they were almost in the exact same position. Experimentally, hoping that it worked, that what he did last time really _had _mattered, Daemon put his hands on Heero's bare skin. One hand on his tricep, the other on his lower arm. It was very slight, but Daemon could swear he felt a difference. His left hand tingled, a slight suction gluing his hands to his ex-brother.

Daemon hoisted Heero further up on his body, thinking that more contact was probably best. Ignoring the stares of the silent crowd around him, Daemon cried, for the first time in years.

_Please, let him be okay._

Dorothy sprinted to the castle, pushing her legs to go faster than they ever had before. She followed the Fury Shooter, but it was too fast for her to catch. The bloodsmell caught her before she reached the front doors. The olfactory sensation was not coming from around her, but rather from her boy.

_Heero,_ she thought as the Fury Shooter passed through him. She couldn't say how she knew whom it was after. She just knew the Fury Shooter targeted and got her youngest baby boy. _I won't let you die!_ Dorothy thought, finally reaching the Great Hall.

She flung open the doors and ran in, spotting the Fury Shooter as soon as she entered. It was fat with Heero's magic. "Dvada!" she screamed in rage, pointing her wand at it. The Fury Shooter exploded, rocking the castle with its force. Bits of magic rained over the hall, dissipating before they hit ground.

Satisfied that she'd dealt with the threat, Dorothy scanned for Heero. It wasn't hard to find him—he was in the middle of the crowd of people. Dorothy pushed her way through the crowd, taking note of every "he just flew up!" and "did you see what happened? The light exploded _in _him!" and "there's so much blood. No one can survive that."

Dorothy broke into the center of the crowd. They had given Heero a wide berth, were well away from trampling him. Gave him his breathing space. Only he wasn't breathing. He wasn't breathing, and his toga was covered with more blood than should be in only one body. A piece of metal glinted from his left cheek. Part of his anklet, she saw upon closer inspection. She pulled it out and put it in a special pocket inside her toga. Heero might want it back later.

Dorothy lifted Heero's mask off him, slowly, so as not to harm him. It was only then that she realized the person holding Heero was not the person she was expecting. Wasn't Quatre.

"Don't you touch him," she snapped at Rosencrantz. She knew all about him, about what he did to Heero. Quatre had told her when he'd found out, but she would have known, anyway. He was just one of those people. People that hurt others just because. Dorothy herself was one of those people, the only exceptions being her family. "Get away from him."

"No," Rosencrantz said, shaking his head. He hugged Heero closer to himself. "He needs me."

"He needs jack shit from you," she spat. It she had a gun, she would gladly put it between his eyes and pull the trigger. She didn't, though, so she had to settle for magic. Dorothy held her wand out, pointed it at the scum, but she didn't dare use it. Even being a mere foot from Rosencrantz, she might miss and hit Heero instead. With a thought, Dorothy got rid of the problem.

"Aah!" Rosencrantz screamed, his right arm twisting out at an awkward angel. He screamed again as she broke the other arm.

"Move, before I get creative," Dorothy threatened. She wasn't sure if she would do much worse or not. In front of all these people, anyway. She was leaning towards "yes." She had a suspicious feeling that Rosencrantz was somehow involved with all of this.

Rosencrantz didn't take any chances, scrambling away from Heero. He shrieked in pain as he accidentally put weight on his arms.

"Good boy," she said absently, as if to a mongrel dog. She squatted down to get a better examination of Heero. He was lying half on one wing. It was broken, bleeding. The other wing, torn, lay sadly on top of it. They were both destroyed beyond repair. Figuring it couldn't do much more damage, and wanting to be able to hold Heero at a better angle, she tore off the wings. Blood spurted out of the empty space on Heero's where they'd been, but not much. Barely a trickle or two.

Dorothy pulled Heero on her lap, and she felt it. What she'd been afraid of. Heero's scar had ripped. "Quatre!" she called. "Come here! Help me!" Quatre didn't come. He always came—he wouldn't just let Heero bleed to death. "Quatre! Harry!" she called more loudly. "Help me!"

Harry jerked his head away from Neville's neck. "Did you hear that?" he asked. He could swear somebody said his name, someone other than Neville.

"What?" Neville said. He looked at Harry, dazed, his pupils dilated. "I didn't hear anything." Neville moved his mouth back on Harry's neck. Apparently, he was trying to write his name in hickeys. The ultimate marker.

"Stop, Neville. Stop," Harry said, pushing Neville off him. Something was wrong. "Do you hear that?"

"Hear what?" Neville whined. "I don't hear anything."

"Exactly," Harry said. He didn't hear anything. No sounds coming from the castle, even though music had been pouring from it full blast just a moment before. No birds singing, even though Hagrid's new Corienta birds were nocturnal, and it was their mating season. Not even any damned crickets. Nothing, except for Neville's harsh panting and his own heartbeat, thudding in his ears.

"Come on," Harry said, tugging Neville's hand. "Something's wrong. Let's go back inside."

Neville looked about to protest, but didn't. Even thought he didn't know Harry was an Oracle, he knew Harry usually was right with his bad feelings. Most of Harry's friends knew that if Harry thought something was wrong, it usually was. And it usually involved Voldemort.

"Let's go," Neville said. He led the way back to the castle, locking up Greenhouse 3 as they left.

The huddled together until they got in the castle. It was deathly quiet when they entered, and Harry's bad feeling grew. Nothing was making any noise. Peeves wasn't even somewhere pushing down a random statue.

"Quatre! Harry! Help me!" a female voice wafted to him. Harry recognized it—and the name she left out. He ran toward the Great Hall, Neville following behind him.

The smell hit Harry about halfway there. It was the smell of blood and death. Harry double-timed it, reaching the Great Hall faster than he ever had in his six and a half years as a student of Hogwarts.

The smell intensified when Harry opened the door. It smelled like a bloodbath, and that's what Harry expected to see. He was thrown off-kilter when he saw the students gathered in a circle, white as sheets, but unharmed.

"Harry! Quatre!" Dorothy screamed again.

Harry ran toward her, through all the people. He almost puked when he broke free, into the center of the circle. The source of the smell was lying on Dorothy. Blood covered him, almost from head to foot. He was breathing shallowly, his mouth open. Every time he exhaled, he popped a little blood bubble.

"Oh, god, Heero," Harry said, sinking to his knees beside his younger brother. He looked at Dorothy. "What happened?"

"A Fury Shooter," she said. Her face was more blank than Harry had ever seen it, but her eyes burned with rage. "What I gather, from listening to the crowd, is that Heero and Quatre were dancing. Quatre suddenly collapsed, and Heero took that as an opportunity to fly away. He almost reached the ceiling before the Fury Shooter hit him. When it did, his scar must have burst—and his anklet—and he fell. Rosencrantz scrambled over to him and held him until I came in. I dealt with him and called for you and Quatre." She said all of this without the slightest hint of emotion. "You have to help him, Harry. My magic isn't the right kind. I've tried, but it's done nothing. Nothing."

"Okay," Harry said, trying to calm her down. Dorothy was starting to work herself into a panic. "What should I do?"

"Quatre usually cries on him," Dorothy said, "but I don't think that'll work for you. I already tried." She wiped her nose with the back of her hand. She was crying freely now. " Blood. Try giving him more blood. He's lost a lot." As if to illustrate her point, she slammed her palm on the floor, right in a puddle of the stuff.

"Okay," Harry said. It was a good plan, if he could do it. He'd been training to use his Gift—just like Quatre, Dorothy, and Heero had—but it had always been about taking blood _out_ of something. Never to put it back in. Harry had only even clotted blood once or twice. That wouldn't work here, anyway. Heero had lost too much blood already to survive with a mere clotting.

Harry sat beside Dorothy—in a puddle of blood—and took Heero's hand. It was easier to use his Gift if he was touching what he wanted to influence, though it wasn't necessary, like with Heero's Gift. Harry concentrated on filling Heero back up with blood. Harry had seen Heero's scar a few times. He knew that it was a magical scar, and it was the only blemish of Heero's that he couldn't cure. Harry focused on the lost blood flowing back in through the scar. He visualized it flowing through Heero's veins, pumping through his heart.

Harry opened his eyes. He almost whooped for joy at what he saw. Heero's costume was clean. The floor around Heero was free of blood. Harry had succeeded. He saved his brother.

Harry went to hug Dorothy. Her eyes widened as he leaned in, and he looked back at Heero. The blood was coming back out. The scar wasn't closed, and Heero was bleeding again. Horrified, Harry grabbed Heero completely from Dorothy, pulling his brother onto his lap.

Harry concentrated on clotting the blood this time. Heero had enough in him to survive. If Harry could just keep it there.

The blood wouldn't clot. Or rather, it would, but then it unclotted mere seconds later. Harry had to try to keep the blood Heero already had in him and put the lost blood back. It wasn't working, and Harry was fast giving up hope. Three minutes after Harry's initial attempt, Heero had lost more blood than before. He didn't wake up the entire time.

Quatre was who they needed. He helped Heero last time and the first time and any other time Heero was hurt. He was their big brother, and he was supposed to keep them safe. But Harry didn't know where Quatre was. He could have hit his head when he fell before. He could be passed out in the middle of the crowd, clueless as to what was happening.

Breaking his concentration for a moment, Harry turned to Dorothy. "Find Quatre," he said. "We need him, if we're going to save Heero."

Dorothy pointed a shaking finger at somewhere past Harry's back. She looked small, so unlike the normal "if you look at me cross-eyed, I'll kill you" Dorothy he had come to know and love, sitting there, doing nothing, as Heero bled to death. But what could she do? Heero's bones were fine, and wounds were not her specialty. Harry looked to where she pointed. Quatre was sitting on the floor, holding the leg of someone dressed as a humpback. His eyes were glassy as he stared at the scene Harry, Heero, and Dorothy were making.

"Quatre," Harry pleaded, "please, help us."

_This can't be happening,_ Quatre thought, watching as Harry turned his attention back to Heero. It _couldn't_ be because no Vanuli would ever attack Heero, and that was exactly what happened. It couldn't be real because Quatre finally figured out the name Heero said before falling unconscious, and it couldn't be her because she loved Heero so much. Morgan wouldn't dare try to kill Heero, and that was exactly what she had done if this were real, so it couldn't be real.

The other time, the first time Heero bled like this—the _real _time—when Heero showed Quatre that he wasn't invincible, even after he was cured of his wards. That time, with the Drow, _that _was real. This couldn't be real, though, because if it was, Quatre was sitting here and doing nothing and not helping, and Heero might die, again, and they would have to declare war on Morgan and her clan—_their _clan, Quatre's and his brothers'—and that wouldn't be a good thing because Vanuli had never warred with Vanuli, and this would be a first.

Quatre would much rather this be a repeat of the Drow betrayal—

_("So we have a deal," Quatre said, signing the contract. King Undea signed it, too, below Quatre's signature)_

—and not the first Vanuli betrayal of a mother to her more powerful, but currently weakened son. It made a sick sort of sense, if they were human, if this was real. Morgan was the next most powerful Vanuli after them and her mother, and next in line for the throne after them. If Heero was out of the way—

("_Quatre, watch out!" Heero screamed. Quatre never saw it coming, the bodyguard pulled his sword from its scabbered)_

_—_then Quatre and Harry would be severely weakened. It would be easy to pick them off, one by one, as they were in mourning. Dorothy—

_(was too far away. She couldn't run faster than the sword. Heero could. He stepped in front of it)_

_—_would be useless if she lost Heero. Naiyamas were famous for going insane—

_(The sword entered through Heero's back, coming out of his chest at a 45° angle)_

_—_when their Niamos died. She might just finish the job for Morgan, not realizing who Harry and Quatre were.

_Heero stumbled to his knees. Furious, Quatre turned away from his brother and advanced on the idiot guard who tried to slay him. Heero could take care of himself; he would pull the sword from his body, heal his wound, and start stabbing Drow with the bloody sword._

_"You ignorant buffoon," Quatre said to the responsible Drow. It stood up straight and proud, a smile on its face. It was happy about what it done. "Do you realize what you've done?"_

_"I killed vermin," it answered, haughtily._

_"Wrong," Quatre said. "You have killed your family." He made a motion to Dorothy. She nodded. Everything would be taken care of. Quatre stalked over to the king, the ink on the contract still wet. He picked up the sword King Undea had laid on the table as a show of trust. Quatre used it on the king as the bodyguard had on Heero._

_"You are responsible for breaking contract with a Vanuli," Quatre said, decapitating the queen. All of the Drow stood, horrified, as Quatre finished off the royal family. "As such, you have subjected your family to a standard Vanuli clause. 'If either party breaks the requirements herein, or attempts to harm the other party, the contract shall be broken under pain of death of the breaker's family,' " Quatre quoted. It sounded better in the original Vanulian, but the meaning of it translated. "Drow consider every member of their species to be family..."_

_Dorothy opened the door leading to outside the cave that was the home of the Drow, letting in Heero's werewolves._

_"Goodbye," Quatre said, picking up Heero and carrying him out. "I hope it was worth it."_

_It wasn't until Quatre got Heero out in the sunlight that he realized one important thing. Heero wasn't breathing. Quatre gasped, almost dropping his brother. Heero was bleeding. A lot. Heero never bled that much, not even when Dr. Kafka messed up the operations, and he almost died._

_"Dorothy," Quatre called, sinking to his knees, "something's wrong."_

_"What is it?" Dorothy asked, forcing herself to turn away from the carnage in the cave. The Drow had no chance against angry werewolves. And they were fighting mad over their favorite Vanuli's injuries._

_"Heero's not healing," Quatre said._

Heero had died thirteen times that night, coming back to life each time, only to die again of blood loss. It was part of being a Vanuli triplets—or twin, Quatre supposed. Heero couldn't move on to the afterlife until his brothers joined him, but he couldn't stay alive with his body that injured. It took Quatre until the twelfth death to figure out what was going on and how to fix it. He cried on Heero until he came back. It took him longer to die after that. After he woke up, Quatre had made him all better.

Quatre was going to have to do it, again. As much as he didn't want it to be happening, didn't want to have to kill his mother, it was, and he would.

Gathering up all of his strength, Quatre rose of the floor and walked over to his family. He sat on the floor and gently took Heero from Harry's arms.

Quatre cried and hoped it would be enough.

Selune


	25. The Morning After the Night Before

Disclaimer: I do not own any things Harry Potter—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to the wonderful J. K. Rowling and whomever else she decides. I do not own anything Gundam Wing—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to (I think) Bandai and Sunrise.

Spoilers: This fic contains spoilers for books 1-5 of Harry Potter and all of the episodes of Gundam Wing. This fic does not include Endless Waltz.

Rating: R

Pairings: Neville/Harry, 2x1

Summary: Two years ago, the One Year War ended. At this time, the five heroes—the Gundam pilots—disappeared from the Muggle world. Three of them—pilots 02, 03, and 05—reappeared shortly after in the Wizarding world, as students at Hogwarts School of Witchraft and Wizardry. Now, twenty months after the fact, Heero Yuy and Quatre Winner are coming to Hogwarts, and they're bringing all of their secrets with them. The world—especially one Harry Potter—will never be the same.

Peace, Love, and Family:

The Story of the Vanuli Three

Chaptre 24: The Morning After the Night Before

Quatre, Harry, and Dorothy sat outside the Infirmary, waiting for any and all news about Heero's condition. They had been waiting all night—ever since Dorothy had the good sense to levitate Heero up there—and the most information they'd gotten was "Well, he's not dead," from Quatre's sister, Maddy. She floo'ed in the minute Quatre contacted her secretary.

"How long is it going to _take _them?"

Quatre looked up from the floor at the outburst. There was an interesting stain there, and he had been trying to figure out what it was.

Harry, the owner of aforementioned outburst, paced up and down the hall. His wings, what was left of them, drooped so low that they skimmed the floor. His mask was cracked, laying on the floor, a victim of Harry's anger. Harry's make-up ran down his face and neck, making him look more like a clown than anything. His hair, neck, chest, legs, everything was covered with blood, making his clownish face all the more scary.

Quatre knew he probably didn't look too much better. He'd torn his wings off in a fit of rage, and the tatters lay beside him, some bits still sticking out of his back. Quatre's own make-up ran down to his neck, a consequence of crying on Heero to get his wound to close. Quatre's hair was haloed with dry, flakey blood, his costume and shoes ruined where he'd knelt in the pool of blood beside Heero. All in all, Quatre was a nasty, skanky mess, but he wasn't leaving to clean himself up until he got to see Heero.

"Why can't we see him yet?" Harry snapped again, exhibiting the emotion for which Blood was most famous: anger.

Quatre looked at Dorothy, expecting to see the same emotion, and was surprised when he didn't. He scooted over beside Dorothy and put his arm around her. "It'll be okay, Dot," he said. Her blank eyes stared straight ahead, and she neither blinked nor acknowleged him. Quatre rubbed her shoulder and lay his head on it. "It's gotta be."

The squeak of a door opening made Quatre jump up. He looked and was excited to see Maddy, until he noticed her expression. "What's wrong?" he asked. He moved to go past her, but she blocked the doorway.

"First off," Maddy said, the serous look still on her face. She was in full-on, one hundred percent Healer mode, and that was never a good thing. She was only like this if it was bad. "First off, the good news. Heero is alive and stable."

_Alive and **stable**?_ Quatre thought. _Not alive and __**well**? This can't be good._

"The bad news," Maddy said, "is that Heero is in a coma."

"A coma!" Harry exclaimed. He tried to push past Quatre, but Quatre didn't let him.

"Why?" Quatre said. He would have to be the voice of reason, until Harry calmed down and Dorothy got her head on straight.

"Well, as you may or may not know," Maddy said, looking down at the chart she carried. Quatre hadn't even noticed it. "All living things have some magic in them. This magic is a necessary part of any organism's survival. If all of the magic—every last drop—is taken out of an organism, it will die."

"Yes," Dorothy said, sounding more like herself than before. It was the first thing she had said in ten hours. "That's the principle on which Fury Shooters work. Each setting takes out a different percentage of magic. Setting it on "kill" takes out all of the magic."

"And that's _exactly what _happened," Maddy said. "Only Heero was wearing a very peculiar alloy—"

"His anklet," Dorothy said. She held it up, and Quatre realized she'd been toying with it the entire time. "I took it out of his cheek."

"That little strip of metal may well have saved his life. The Gundamiun soaked up pieces of Heero's magic over the months he's been wearing it, and it released it when Heero's magic was sucked away," Maddy said, inspecting the anklet.

"_But_, there were complications," she said, giving the anklet back to Dorothy. "The Fury Shooter caused the scar Heero has on his chest and back to burst open. This was actually more harmful than the Fury Shooter itself. I'm reasonably sure that Heero would be dead—as in the really, truly, not coming back variety—if that boy," she checked her notes, "Daemon Rosencrantz, hadn't gotten tohim in the first few seconds after the Incident."

"Yes, but why is Heero in a coma?" Harry asked, his voice softer than before. Quatre could practically feel the anger leaving hs brother. For the moment, at least. "Quatre closed the wound, I put most of his blood back in him, and Rosencrantz gave him magic."

"To put it simply, Heero couldn't take enough magic from Rosencrantz to keep him awake," Maddy said. "Unlike humans, Vanuli are inherently magical, meaing that all Vanuli have sufficient quantity and the ablity to use magic. When either the quantity of or ability to use magic goes away, the body shuts down until the defficiency is fixed."

"How long do you think that'll be?" Quatre asked, pinching the bridge of his nose with his thumb and forefinger, dreading the answer. Why did these things always happened to Heero?

"On his own, about six weeks."

Harry looked positively green at that, and Quatre felt about as good as he looked. Six weeks without Heero? It was out of the question.

"However," Maddy said, "if enough magic coud be harnessed and _given _to Heero, I think it might be good enough to wake him up."

"Well, then, what are we waiting for?" Harry said. "We can give him our magic!" Harry tried once again to push past Quatre and was once again rebuffed.

"I'm afraid that won't work," Maddy said. "I thought of that, too, but when I did the calculations, it wasn't pretty. To sacrifice the amount of magic Heero needs would put the three of you into comas. You'll need at least twenty people, other Vanuli being preferable. I'm not sure how he would react to human magic, at the moment."

"Can we see him now?" Quatre asked after a moment of silence.

Maddy nodded and stepped out of their way. "Yes, but only for a few minutes. You still have classes to go to." She winked at Quatre, and he knew that she was just saying that for show. She would let them come back and stay with Heero as long as they wanted, after Madame Pomfrey left.

Quatre reached Heero's bed and pulled back the dividers. He looked so helpless, lying there amid the machines Maddy had set up around him. Heero was stripped of his costume and was wearing one of those gowns universal to hospitals.

Quatre took Heero's right hand—the one without an I.V.—and kissed it. He sat down on a chair next to the bed, still holding Heero's hand.

"Hey, there, 'Ro," Quatre said, stroking his thumb over the back of Heero's hand. He fought not to cry, but a sob escaped. "You're gong to be okay, baby. Just...hang in there. We'll get you out of this, me, Harry, and Dorothy. You're going to be just _fine_."

Harry and Dorothy pulled up chairs around Heero's bed. Harry grabbed Quatre's free hand, Dorothy got Harry's other, and she laid her right hand on Heero's thigh. They were connected, all together. A family.

"So we're agreed then? On the new plan?" Dorothy asked Harry and Quatre. She was back to her usual forceful self, bounding back after hearing Madrigal's diagnosis. Based on that and the fact that the more intelligent of Hogwarts students (read: Hermione Granger) had probably figured out that the Fury Shooter was Vanuli in origin, Dorothy, Harry, and Quatre decided to tweak their earlier plan.

Last night, after the unmasking ceremony—which never happened due to a certain interruption—Dorothy and her Niamos were going to make an announcement to the sixth and seventh years, which would, no doubt ,trickle on down to the first years by breakfast. They were going to announce their Gifts, leaving out the fact that the boys were Oracles and any mention of Vanuli. They were going to say they were a "matched set," such as it was, and were a sort of quadrangle/circle. That would have accounted for their unnaturely close bond, and no one would be suspicious of them being near one another.

_That_ plan was shot to hell when that bitch/bastard/whoever-it-was (Dorothy was working under the assumption that the Fury Shooter was stolen by either Dr. J or Voldemort. She felt it with more conviction when she learned the last word Heero spoke. Neither Heero's mother nor sister nor niece would ever attack him.) ran a Fury Shooter, which was decidedly, no mistaking it, Vanuli, through her youngest Niamo. After that, the remaining three decided they had to mention the Vanuli, or else risk suspicion from the Ravenclaws and Granger. They finally settled on still using their Gifts as a reason for their bond, saying they were from some of the eight lower-class clans, and not mentioning the word "triplets" in any way, shape, or form.

"Yeah," Harry said.

"I got it," Quatre said.

Satisified, Dorothy nodded and opened the door to the Great Hall. The room was silent as Harry and Quatre fell in behind her, flanking her on both sides. She knew they must look a sight, as they were still in their costumes from last night. None of them had bothered with so much as a cleaning charm. By the time Dorothy reached the teacher's table, every eye in the room was on her and her boys.

She had planned it like this, for it to be right before Professor Dumbledore's morning announcement, when the students instinctively quieted down enough to hear a sickle fall. Dorothy looked out at her audience, Quatre on her right side, Harry on her left.

"Dona Maya," Dorothy—Ismea—said. By the blank looks on most of the students' faces, she knew she'd already lost them. No matter; she expected it. "That means 'I wish upon you and your family a long life and much happiness.' It is of Vanuli origin, a greeting given to another who is not a part of one's family.

" 'Donai Maya' is the greeting given to a member of one's own family. It means 'I wish upon you and our family a long life and much happiness.' " Dorothy turned to Quatre. "Donai Maya, Malal."

Quatre took Dorothy's hands in his. "Donai Maya, Ismea," he said. He kissed her on the cheek—a clean spot, not covered with blood—and the two of them switched places.

"Dona Maya, Hogwarts," Quatre said with a flourish. He bowed and turned to Harry. "Donai Maya, Nelat." Again, he took Harry's hands in his and kissed Harry's cheek.

"Donai Maya, Malal," Harry said, taking up his position center stage. It was decided, when they were in the Infirmary, before getting kicked out by Madame Pomfrey, that Harry would do most of the talking because he knew and was known by more people.

"I can see that most of you are wondering whaat in the hell this has to do with anything," Harry said. Dorothy could tell, even through the caked on blood, sweat, and make-up, Harry was fighting back a blush. "It, in fact, has everything to do with everything.

"Last night," Harry hopped off the platform and began walking, "right about here," where Heero had fallen, remarkably free of stain, "tragedy struck. A Fury Shooter—a _Vanuli _device designed for defense—went on the offensive and struck down a Vanuli, my cousin, Imela LeFey, more commonly known as Heero Yuy III."

The three of them, by Harry's prompting, had decided to use their own names, to cut down on confusion. He had reasoned that the majority of humans didn't even know what Vanuli were, much less their class system, and those that did know rarely ever knew which house went with which class. If, by some miracle, one of the people with all the correct information was in Hogwarts, they would lie and say the information was outdated.

"We had wished to make this announcement last night," Harry said, walking up and down the aisles, studiously avoiding the Gryffindor table. "Unfortunately, Heero's injury—and almost-death—took precedence over it." Harry reached the platform again and faced the students. "I'm here to tell you, now today. Dorothy Catalonia, Quatre Winner, Heero Yuy, and myself are Vanuli. We go by the names Ismea, Malal, Imela, and Nelat, respectively."

The students exclaimed at this. Dorothy heard "Harry Potter's not human?" and "What's a Vanuli?" and "I bet they work for You-Know-Who?" and even a "Pod people! Pod people!" from a second year Muggleborn at the Hufflepuff table.

"Please, be quiet," Harry said, holding up his hands for silence. He tried twice more, but the noise just seemed to get louder.

"Shut up!" Dorothy yelled, authoritative. The students shut up, and surprisingly, the teachers. Dorothy had almost forgotten about them.

"Thank you, cousin," Harry said before turning back aroung to face his audience. "As I was saying, Vanuli are a type of fay, and yes, that does mean fairies. _However_, we are not cute little pixies—Cornish ones notwithstanding—and we will not be treated as such. We are a _dignified _species, too highbrow for the likes of—"

Dorothy clamped her hand over Harry's mouth before he could say anything potentially damaging. It was a common trait among the Vanuli to look on anyone they felt was inferior—which meant pretty much anyone—especially while angry or in grief. Even those who were normally very much about equality and human rights could fly off the handle if suitably upset.

"As Harry was saying," Dorothy said after moving Harry back, "Vanuli are a magical species. Certain Vanuli are so powerful, they could wipe us all out with a wave of their hand, no wand required. We, however," Dorothy motioned to Quatre and Harry, "are not nearly so powerful. No, we are merely cousins bound together by certain talents we have." Dorothy motioned for Quatre to continue. She couldn't do that self-effacing "like me, I'm such a nice girl" attitude for more than a few seconds, or she'd puke.

"Professor Lupn told the seventh years on the very first day of classes about four very rare talents, called Gifts," Quatre said. He had a serious expression on his face, but also one that said "I'm just a harmless puppy dog, don't hurt me." Dorothy hid a smirk behind her hand, disguised as a cough. Only Quatre could pull that off.

"The Gifts of Flesh, Blood, Bones, and Tears are very unique talents," Quatre continued. "They are often classified as "dark" because of the ease with which a Gifted person can hurt another. They can also be used for good. Heero, with the Gift of Flesh can just as easily heal the physical effects of the _Cruciatus_ curse as he could peel the skin off your body, inch by inch. Harry, with the Gift of Blood, can just as easily put the blood back in a body—as he did to Heero last night—as he can pull it out. Dorothy, Gifted with Bones, can heal a broken bone, or liquefy your skeleton with the same amount of effort. And I, with the Gift of Tears, can close a wound with my tears or rain acid down on an unsuspecting victim

" 'With great power comes great responsibility,' they say. Whoever _they _are. Separately, me, Dorothy, Harry, and Heero are powerful. As far as wizard standards go, anyway. But together, we are so much more than that. For the first time in over eight centuries, Earth has a matched set, a perfect circle, of Gifts. Together, we are so much more than we could ever be apart.

"Don't any of you ever dare forget that."

After his threat, Quatre started to walk out of the Great Hall. A little startled—they hadn't _threatened _enough—Dorothy grabbed Harry and hurried to catch up with him.

"Well, that wasn't bad," Dorothy commented the moment the door was closed between them and the other students.

"No worse than we expected," Quatre said. He crossed his arms and glared at the door. The noise in the Great Hall was probably audible in Gryffindor Tower.

"Yes, except that now all I'm going to hear from anybody is "Why didn't you _tell_ me?" and "I thought we were friends!" and everything like that," Harry said, whining in all the right parts.

"You'll live," Quatre said, putting an arm around Harry's shoulder. "Come on. Let's get cleaned up. If we time it right, we can probably sneak in to see Heero again before class."

"Maya Donai," Dorothy siad, hugging them both of her boys before turning to go to the Slytherin Dungeons. Now that she thought about it, she had never felt more disgusting in her life. And while she was down there, she would see about rustling up some twenty-odd Vanuli.

"_What_ did you say?" Harry asked, incredulous. Not thirty minutes after leaving breakfast, he was in Snape's class, waiting for Double Potions to begin. Unfortunately, that meant class with the Slytherins, one incredibly dumb one in particular.

"I _said_," Malfoy said, getting right in Harry's face, "that if you're supposed to be such great powerful, _fairy _beings, why is Yuy still in the Infirmary? For that matter, why didn't he have the good sense to _duck_ instead of flying right up into it? If you ask me, he's stupider than that idiotic, sniveling goat chasing after him."

Harry was trying to control his temper. Really, he was. It was just that with every word Malfoy spoke, he got madder and madder. Quatre's hand was on his shoulder, a preemtive attempt to calm him down. It might have worked, except that Quatre's anger was meeting his own, making it more than double.

"I'm going to give you just one chance to shut up and go back to your seat," Harry said, more calmly—much more—than he felt.

"And what if I don't?" Malfoy said, moving closer, actually bumping into Harry. "What are you gonna do about it? You gonaa bleed on me?" Malfoy looked at Quatre. "Cry on me, maybe?" He put his fists on his eyes and pretended to cry like a baby. "Waah. Waah.

"Pathetic." He dropped his hands to his side. "All of you. Pathetic, little nothings. Especialy Yuy. Went and got himself killed, didn't he? If not, too bad. An idiot like that deserves to die, with the Dark Mark flying high in the sky. Dead, and it's all your fault, Potter—Oomph!"

Harry coudn't stand it any more. He saw red and pounced on Malfoy, knocking him—rather roughly—to the stone floor. Harry saw more red and started pounding away at Malfoy's face. Pinning him to the floor with his knees, Harry hit and punched and scratched Malfoy's heretofore unmarred face, drawing more blood than should be humanly possible. Harry heard a wild animal screaming and realized it was himself. Malfory wasn't making any noise.

"What's going on here?" a female voice asked. Harry recognized it as Dorothy. "Stop it, Harry." Something Harry never thought she would say. This creature, this pathetic human _vermin_, this _scum_, insulted his brother and deserved to die. Harry would make sure he did.

"Mr. Potter!" Snape yelled, finally entering the classroom. "Stop this, immediately!"

Hands grabbed at Harry and pulled him off Malfoy's body. Harry tried to shrug them off, but they were too big. Meaty, even. Crabbe and Goyle. Harry scratched hem in an attempt to get away. He pulled blood from them like draining pasta. He pulled it from his scratches, other small wounds they had, their pores, even. Harry felt them getting weaker and focused his attention back on Malfoy, the little ferret. He was worse than scum, worse than vermin, and he would _die_. Harry didn't need to touch Malfoy to kill him. All he needed was one tiny scratch, and he had a whole lot more than that.

Harry focused on Malfoy and willed him to die.

Heero didn't know where he was. It felt familiar but different, if that made any sense. It was dark, the deepest dark of death. But he wasn't dead. He could feel his body lying on a bed of some sort. He could feel his body, smell the air, taste something metallic in his mouth, but he couldn't move, couldn't open his mouth to call out for help.

Heero wasn't cold. That, if nothing else, told him he wasn't dead. Being dead always meant darkness and coldness and waiting. Waiting to live, waiting to move, waiting to wait. He was waiting now, but it was different, sort. Heero couldn't quite put his finger on it.

_What is going on here?_

Selune


	26. The Aftermath of the Fight

Disclaimer: I do not own any things Harry Potter—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to the wonderful J. K. Rowling and whomever else she decides. I do not own anything Gundam Wing—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to (I think) Bandai and Sunrise.

Spoilers: This fic contains spoilers for books 1-5 of Harry Potter and all of the episodes of Gundam Wing. This fic does not include Endless Waltz.

Rating: R

Pairings: Neville/Harry, 2x1

Summary: Two years ago, the One Year War ended. At this time, the five heroes—the Gundam pilots—disappeared from the Muggle world. Three of them—pilots 02, 03, and 05—reappeared shortly after in the Wizarding world, as students at Hogwarts School of Witchraft and Wizardry. Now, twenty months after the fact, Heero Yuy and Quatre Winner are coming to Hogwarts, and they're bringing all of their secrets with them. The world—especially one Harry Potter—will never be the same.

Peace, Love, and Family:

The Story of the Vanuli Three

Chapter 25: The Aftermath of the Fight

"So, how did it go?" Quatre asked Harry, sitting on their bed. Madam Pomfrey—and Maddy—had kicked him out of the Infirmary hours ago, so he'd had nothing to do but wait until Harry got back from his "meeting" with Professor Dumbledore.

"Not bad," Harry said, looking uncomfortable, "but not good."

He didn't elaborate, and Quatre wondered why. Harry walked further into the room, and Quatre figured out why Harry was reluctant to say much more.

"Hello Ron. Hermione. Neville," Quatre said, keeping his voice free of any emotion, yet still mildly pleasant. "I suppose this is the first wave of interrogations." Quatre had been expecting something like this to happen since their little announcement that morning.

The trio stood near the door frame, none seemingly willing to be the first to approach the Vanuli. It reminded Quatre of the way someone would after coming upon a wild cat in a grocery store. Shocked and afraid, yet curious as to how it ended up there in the first place.

"Well, come in, come in," Quatre said, getting up and waving them forward. "I don't bite, unless you ask, and even then, only between two and four on Saturday."

Ron laughed at that until Hermione elbowed him in the stomach. "What?" he asked, appearing to be nothing more than a contrite puppy, with a flaming red face to match his hair.

"We're not here to have fun," Hermione said. "We're here to get answers, and as Harry wouldn't tell us anything in the Common Room—not that I blame him, mind you, there's much too many people in the Common Room to speak candidly about such a matter—"

"Hermione," Neville said, interrupting her. "Back to the point?"

"Oh, yes," Hermione said, turning to face Quatre and Harry, who were standing together in the middle of the room. "As I was saying, we'll have to question the both of you, in here. Neville, the locking spell?"

Quatre smirked—quick, small, and gone in half a second. "You of all people should know, Hermione, that a simple locking spell isn't enough to keep us in here if we don't want to be.

Hermione faltered and turned to look at Neville, then back to Quatre. "Nor would I expect it to. A first year could break this spell with a simple _Alohamora._" She kept her hands at her side. "This is simply to dissuade others from interrupting us and to inform us should anyone try to enter."

"Ah," Quatre said, and Hermione turned back to Neville.

"I'm really sorry about this," Harry whispered, leaning into Quatre. "I tried to get rid of them, but..."

"They're stubborn," Quatre finished. Quatre took Harry's hand. "Anyway, I expected this, and it's better than thinking about, well, you know." Harry nodded, and they finished the sentence together. _Heero_.

"I talked to Dorothy on the way back, and she said something about getting the centaurs and werewolves to help us out," Harry said. "She's not completely convinced that he has to have Vanuli magic to wake up."

"If not, that would be great," Quatre said, thinking back to a conversation he had with Dorothy in the Infirmary, before Maddy kicked them out, while Harry was being reprimanded for his display in Potions. "It's going to take two weeks to get all of our brothers and sisters here to help us, and that's cutting it rather close." Two weeks would be a mere two days before the full moon. If Heero wasn't awake and strong enough to deal with his wolves by then, they weren't really sure what they could do. Either Quatre and Harry would have to take over, or Snape would have to make a _hell_ of a lot of Wolfsbane potion.

"Not to mention, we want to get him out of there—the Infirmary,his coma, his own mind—as soon as possible," Harry said.

"Yeah," Quatre said quietly. He tugged on Harry's hand. "C'mon. Let's sit down, and you can tell me what happened with Dumbledore."

They sat down on their bed, and Harry laid his head on Quatre's shoulder. "Well, it wasn't just Dumbledore," Harry said. "Snape was there and Malfoy's mother and Crabbe's and Goyle's parents. You should have seen it." He chuckled, and Quatre felt the vibrations. "Mrs. Malfoy was screeching about what an abomination I was, Mr. Crabbe kept trying to hit me with a cane—Dumbledore took everyone's wands before beginning the meeting, or I'm sure that a hex or twelve would have been thrown at me—Snape kept yelling for my expulsion, and I think Dumbledore was seriously thinking about it."

"What did you do to change his mind?" Quatre asked. Harary obviously wasn't expelled, or he would have been gone by now. But if anything deserved expulsion as a punishment, what Harry had done was it. (Not that Quatre disagreed with what his brother did. He was actually quite proud of Harry.) Rumor had it that Malfoy was transferred to St. Mungo's and wouldn't be awake for at least a week, even with numerous blood transfusions. Crabbe and Goyle were in much better shape, already awake and sent back to their dorms, albeit much weaker than they normally were.

"I summoned Relena's contract and had Dumbledore read the fine print," Harry said.

_Aah_, Quatre thought, understanding now. Relena and company had given them a copy of the contract before they left for Sank, and Quatre had it memorized almost word for word. Along with the standard clause—modified to include the students of Hogwarts as Professor Dumbledore's family—Relena put in a clause stating that Dumbledore would be breaching the terms of the contract (and thus be subject to the standard clause) should he "expel, suspend, or otherwise unjustly punish" any of the four Vanuli students for anything less than murder or an attempt thereof. Of course, what Dumbledore didn't realize was that killing humans was not considered to be murder among the Vanuli. The sentiment was similar to a human's at running over a dog or hearing about animal cruelty. "It's not murder if it's not my species," was a theory to which most Vanuli subscribed.

"I've never seen anyone pale as much as he did when he read that," Harry said, raising his head from Quatre's shoulder and unclasping their hands, so he could stretch. "I swear, he was as white as his beard."

Quatre looked at Hermione and realized he'd forgotten she was there, even though he'd been looking right at her for the past fifteen minutes or so. Her eyes were open wide, like a deer in headlights. She looked like she was debating whether to run or scream, and her companions looked the same way. Thankfully, they did neither, Hermione conjuring a chair to sit in, and Ron and Neville deciding to sit on their beds with the curtains pulled back.

After Hermione got settled in her chair—which resembled the plush, red one in the Common Room which she seemed to favor—she looked at Harry and Quatre. "Okay," she commanded. "Talk."

Harry looked nervously at his best friends and his boyfriend. He had no idea what to say to them other than what they already knew. If he tried to say anything more, he was sure that Hermione would pull the truth out of his half-lies and incomplete truths.

"Um," Harry said, fidgeting on the bed. He shook his left leg against the bed as he thought. "I don't really know what you want me to say." He quickly looked at the floor to avoid meeting anyone's eyes.

"You don't know-don't know what to say!" Ron exclaimed, rising from his bed to stand behind Hermione. "How about the truth? How long have you known? How long were you going to keep this from us? Why didn't you trust us? How can we trust you—"

"That's quite enough, Ron," Hermione said, holding her hand up in that universal gesture for silence. "There's no use getting ahead of ourselves." She put her arm down and turned back to face Harry. "Let's start with the basics. Are you a Vanuli, Harry?"

"Yes," Harry said without thinking. His eyes darted to Neville, who hadn't spoken a word since he did the locking spell. Neville refused to look at him, focusing (or not, Harry couldn't really tell) on the floor. "I was going to tell you last night, before we told everyone else, but.... Well, you know." Harry realized how pathetic that sounded, but even though he could shout Voldemort's name loud enough for the entire world to hear, he couldn't bring himself to say his little brother's. Not yet, anyway.

"Heero. Yes" Hermione said. Harry looked at her, and her eyes were filled with sympathy. It was cliché—the eyes filled with emotion bit—but right now, on Hermione, it was real. No one could ever accuse Hermione of being heartless (except maybe House Elves, but even the majority of them felt she was just confused, after learning why she did what she did).

"Yeah," Harry said. "I was actually just about to tell Neville when It happened." Neville still wouldn't look at him. "Afterwards, I was too busy to tell any of you anything."

"Okay," Hermione said. It was obvious that she hadn't been expecting him to say that by the way she twirled her hair around her finger. Clockwise meant she was scheming, counter-clockwise meant she was worried, clockwise and up meant she was confused, and counter-clockwise and up meant she was surprised. After six and a half years of being friends with her, Harry learned her many tics. "I suppose that's understandable, given the circumstance..."

"What else were yo going to tell me last night?" Neville asked, startling Harry, and from their reactions, everyone else in the room.

"What do you mean?" Harry asked, snapping back and forth between irritated and nervous. Had he said something to make Neville believe there was more to it?

"You said, and I quote, 'we have an announcement to make, but I want to tell you beforehand, give you a little more information than the general public," Neville said, using air quotes at the appropriate times. "What exactly were you going to tell me?"

"I, uh, I," Harry risked a peek at Quatre, trying to gauge what he thought Harry should say. Quatre had no expression on his face. Rather, he had that look of a movie extra, that faceless everyman look. Harry couldn't pick up any uniqueness in his brother that made his eyes want to linger. Harry didn't even want to know what that look meant.

He turned back to Neville, who had taken up position beside Ron, both of them flanking Hermione.

"We didn't plan to tell anyone that we were Vanuli," Harry said slowly, still trying to plan what he was going to say. "We were going to say that we were a circle, a rectangle, some sort of polygon, bound by the raw power of our Gifts. I was going to to a little bit farther and tell you guys that I wasn't quite human."

Hermione looked up at Neville and pursed her lips. "Is that it, Harry? Is there anything else you might want to tell us?"

_No_, was Harry's first thought, but he heard the underlying "if you don't tell us, we'll just find out some other way, and won't be happy about it. Not a bit." Harry swallowed his head. "No, that's not it."

Harry sighed and stood up, pacing back and forth in front of the bed, never quite leaving Quatre's range of touch. He sat back down, now on Quatre's right and covered his face with his hands.

"Mother," Harry swore. "It wasn't supposed to be like this." He uncovered his face. "It's not like I woke up one morning morning and said to myself, 'Harry, just how can you alienate your friends from you? What would best do the job?' It wasn't _like_ that. I didn't _mean_ to keep secrets. It just—it just happened!"

Nobody said anything. Quatre interlaced their hands together and kissed Harry's hand. He lay his head on Harry's shoulder, all the while humming a tune Harry couldn't quite place. Quatre buried his face into Harry's shoulder and began to cry. The only indicator was the wetness on his shoulder. The others wouldn't be able to tell.

"It'll be all right," Hermione said, soothingly, and Harry was struck once again at how perceptive she was. "Just tell us everything, and we won't be mad."

Harry had one brother in the Hospital Wing, one brother crying on his shoulder, one protector too far away to help, four cousins who didn't know a damn thing was going on, and thirty-four as-yet-unmet brothers and sisters who couldn't get off their asses to come help for fourteen days. He had almost killed one classmate today and seriously wounded two others. He was growing further and further apart from Ron and Hermione, his best friends and lifelines since first year. He had made up with his boyfriend, only to be estranged mere hours later. He was going to fall apart—again—if he didn't do something, quick.

"Okay," Harry said. "I'll tell you everything, but first, I need you to sign something." Harry conjured three standard Silencing contracts, all with the standard clause. After signing it, if the trio spoke of what Harry told them and anyone else heard, they would forfeit their lives and the lives of their immediate families as a punishment. Harry didn't want to do it, but it was necessary. His secret could not get out to the general populace.

"Read them completely, including the fine print, before you sign them," Harry said, handing out the contracts. "If any of you feel that you cannot abide by the agreement in the contract, please leave the room, immediately."

Harry waited until Hermione—no doubt the fastest reader in all of Gryffindor, if not the entire school—finished reading. He didn't really expect Ron to read it, so he wasn't surprised when Ron just stared at the contract for fifteen minutes. Hermione told Ron and Neville what it said, including the standard clause.

All three signed it, which surprised Harry. He thought for sure that Hermione wouldn't risk her parents' lives just to sate her own curiosity. Ron's signing was almost a given, though, either believing that it was some sort of twisted joke or that Harry would never willingly hurt him, even if he did go back on his word. Harry didn't really know what to think of Neville signing. Even though Neville was his boyfriend (or was it ex again?), Harry knew him the least of everyone in the room.

"Are you all sure of your decision?" Harry asked. Quatre had stopped crying and was looking at Harry's friends. "If you've changed your mind, I can burn your contract, and you can just walk away. Once I start spilling the secrets, you can't back out. And trust me, those contracts will be enforced, even if I don't have the heart to do so.

"So," Harry said, "anyone want to leave?"

Hermione wanted to stay, there was no way Ron was leaving, and Neville wasn't going anywhere.

"Okay, then," Harry said, and he told them everything, starting with Heero's prophecy.

Dorothy was _not _a happy camper. She'd been thrown out of the Infirmary thrice in half an hour (granted, visiting hours ended several hours earlier), her healthy boys were upset and too far away for her to comfort, the rest of their brothers and sisters couldn't get organized and together for another fourteen days, and now she was having to stand outside in the November chill and wait for a centaur!

"Miss Ismea," the messenger said, and Dorothy whirled around. It was the centaur who was chasing Heero. Zephyr or something like that.

"Yes," Dorothy said, raising an eyebrow at his appearance. He was covered in mud, leaves stuck to him like feathers on tar.

The centaur kneeled, its forelegs on the ground. "Zetoth Koel, son of Lorak, son of Brimor, leader of the clan Teldon, second brother to Bramtac, High leader of the Forest Centaur Alliance, ally to the Vanuli LeFey," the centaur recited.

Dorothy didn't usually deal much with lesser species (especially smelly ones, like this), but for her Niamo, she would kiss a camel in the hot Arab deserts after having mud dumped on it. Talking to a half-goat was nothing compared to that. "Ismea Mordal, Naiyama to and representative of Malal, Nelat, and Imela LeFey, sons of Morgan LeFey the Seventh, grandsons of Aravu LeFey, the Queen of Vanuli, and future king of the Vanuli race," Dorothy recited her ranking. She was pleased at how far up in the hierarchy she was. It was always embarrassing for her when she was just another daughter in just another warrior clan.

"What do your leaders say?' Dorothy asked, looking down at the centaur, who remained kneeling.

"The High leader feels that one clan of centaurs should be enough magic, Miss Ismea," the centaur said, looking down at Dorothy as he rose to his full height. "Leader Brimor of the Teldon clan has volunteered his aide. We will be assembled on the lawn tomorrow when the sun comes up, and we will remain there until you, personally, come to retrieve us."

"Thank you," she said. With the information she needed, Dorothy waved the centaur away. "You are dismissed."

Dorothy turned and headed back to the castle without looking back.

_I hope this works,_ she thought.

Daemon held his breath as he stood outside of the door to the Hospital Wing. It was a few hours after curfew, and the last thing he needed right now was to get caught by some ill-tempered Prefect—or worse yet, a professor. Daemon should just turn around and go back to his dorm, and he would, just as soon as he saw Heero. Made sure he was all right.

Daemon could just smack himself. It was his fault Heero was hurt in the first place. If he'd just kept his mouth shut and pretended that he had no idea where Omega-12 was, J never would have found him.

_If only I hadn't been so **stupid**_, Daemon thought. _Of __**course**, J wasn't trying to track Heero down just to say "thanks for saving our asses."_

When the war ended—the Muggle war—Heero disappeared. Hell, all of the Gundam pilots vanished from the face of the Earth. And her colonies. Daemon had been too surprised at J's miraculous recovery (he'd heard all about the "scientists go boom" event up in space) to worry about much about his intentions toward Heero. So when Heero showed up on the train on September 1st, contacting J was the first thing Daemon did after the feast was over.

He forgot all about it until one day when he accidentally ran into Heero in the hall. It was a weird day, and Daemon didn't remember much of it, just asking Heero to meet him the next morning, and giving him a note lest he forget. And again, the next morning, when Heero just lit into him, he forgot even why he was there until Heero was out the door. Then he promptly forgot again.

But there was no doubt in Daemon's mind that J was responsible for the attack the night before. Daemon knew a little bit about Vanuli culture, having become interested in it after he and his unit mates almost died because of Vanuli magic. So Daemon knew that another Vanuli would never attack Heero, whether he was an adopted son or a blood one—and Daemon remembered Heero willingly giving that magic (he thought they were called Fury Orbs, or something like that) to Dr. J after his stay in the Box. Therefore, Daemon reasoned, J most likely was, at the least, involved in the attack, if not the instigator. Which meant that Daemon was at fault, for telling the bastard where his ex-brother was.

Daemon listened hard at the door to the Infirmary and, hearing nothing, slipped in. He silently made his way to the bed on the end, as it was the only one with the curtains pulled and was probably Heero's. As Daemon sneaked closer and closer to the bed, he heard a noise. Someone talking. Daemon stilled, then silently crept forward to the bed next to Heero's. He scrunched down into a little ball and listened, free from sight.

"I'm so sorry," Daemon heard someone whisper. He thought the voice was familiar, but he couldn't quite tell whose it was. The voice gave a choked sob. _Maybe I should leave_, he thought. After all, it seemed to be a private moment. Daemon wavered. _No,_ Daemon thought. _I'll just wait until he leaves, take a quick peek at Heero, and then get out of here._

"Baby, if you'll please just wake up," the voice said, coming out of the whisper just enough for Daemon to tell it was a male's, "we never have to talk about any of that other stuff. Do you hear me? I forgive you, if only you'll come back and be all right." The voice stopped, and Daemon heard the smack that identified a kiss. "I love you, Heero." Some shuffling sounds. Feet. Sheets. "I have to go now, but I'll be back as soon as possible."

Daemon hunkered down even more as the boy left. He wasn't able to see who it was, but one wouldn't have to be a genius to figure it out. The sexual tension between Heero and Duo was so thick you could cut it with a plastic spoon.

When Daemon couldn't hear Duo's footsteps anymore, he stood up, his knees popping in protest at their treatment. Daemon looked around the curtain at Heero.

He didn't look like Heero Yuy should ever look. Heero was a guy who could bend steel bars with his bare hands. He could lay a room full of wizards flat on their asses after he'd been in the reconditioning chamber for over a month. Heero Yuy could blow up a Gundam _while he was still in it_ and wake up a month later with barely a scratch on him.

Heero Yuy did not have skin as pale and as brittle-looking as tissue paper. His veins did not pop out, giving him an ethereal blue tinge. He was not swallowed whole by hospital beds and machines that bleeped and blipped and all in all did fuck else. Heero Yuy did not look like some small porcelain doll that would break if he touched it too hard.

"I'm sorry," Daemon said, ghosting his hand over Heero's left arm. "I'm so sorry." Daemon fell to his knees, buried his face in the sheets, and cried. "I'm so sorry."

Selune


	27. Trying and Failing

Disclaimer: I do not own any things Harry Potter—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to the wonderful J. K. Rowling and whomever else she decides. I do not own anything Gundam Wing—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to (I think) Bandai and Sunrise.

Spoilers: This fic contains spoilers for books 1-5 of Harry Potter and all of the episodes of Gundam Wing. This fic does not include Endless Waltz.

Rating: R

Pairings: Neville/Harry, 2x1

Summary: Two years ago, the One Year War ended. At this time, the five heroes—the Gundam pilots—disappeared from the Muggle world. Three of them—pilots 02, 03, and 05—reappeared shortly after in the Wizarding world, as students at Hogwarts School of Witchraft and Wizardry. Now, twenty months after the fact, Heero Yuy and Quatre Winner are coming to Hogwarts, and they're bringing all of their secrets with them. The world—especially one Harry Potter—will never be the same.

Peace, Love, and Family:

The Story of the Vanuli Three

Chapter 26: Trying and Failing

Harry finished his tale, tired and worn out from relating the events of the past few months to his friends. Surprisingly, he got through the entire thing without a single interruption from his two missing dorm-mates. Maybe not so surprising, though, as it was Friday night (or rather, Saturday morning), and both Dean and Seamus had girlfriends in different houses.

"Harry," Hermione said, leaning back into her chair. Ron and Neville had long since conjured their own chairs and were sitting of either side of her. "I have to admit, that's a bit much to take in all at once."

Harry smiled tiredly at her. He was going to have bags the size of hippogriffs under his eyes all day tomorrow. Especially since he and Ron had Quidditch practice at six in the morning, and it was already two. "I know, 'Mione," he yawned. "I understand if you—if all of you—need some time to get used to this."

"Time, yes," Hermione said. "I think I'll need and some time, and maybe some studying... I think I'll go to the library tomorrow, see what other books I can find on Vanuli. Maybe I can find something to help you out, with the prophecy."

Harry nodded. "Thanks," he said. As a longtime friend of Hermione, he knew that research would help her overcome this new (old) difference in her best friend.

"Are you sure it's the truth?" Ron asked, shattering the quiet atmosphere. Everyone looked at Ron, even Quatre, who Harry had been sure was asleep, his head in Harry's lap. Quatre glared daggers at Ron, and he gulped. "I mean, maybe they're mistaken. I'm sure they make mistakes. Right?"

Quatre sat up so fast that Harry almost fell off the bed. "We made no mistake," Quatre hissed, sounding too much like Malfoy for anyone's own good. "It was in the file. Besides, Dorothy would have known the second she saw him, if Harry wasn't our brother."

_File? What file?_ Harry thought, but he didn't voice it. He would ask Quatre—or maybe Dorothy—later. He couldn't expect his friends to believe what he was telling them, if he, himself, questioned it.

"Okay, then," Ron said, his face giving those first tinges of turning red. Harry hoped he—and Quatre—could keep his temper under control. Harry didn't feel like playing mediator at this late at night. "How do we know you're not lying? That you haven't put Harry under some sort of spell? Maybe you're even working for You-Know-Who."

"Now you listen here," Quatre hissed, leaping up from the bed. Harry grabbed him just before he reached Ron. "I would _never_ work for that piece of ex-human scum. He is not worth one tenth of the lowliest Vanuli, much less one of the best, most powerful." Quatre tried—and failed—to lunge at Ron, Harry holding him the entire time. "And I would never, _ever_ put anybody in my family in any kind of danger, especially not my two baby brothers. I would personally rip," Quatre grunted as he attempted to lunge again, "the skin from anyone who tried to hurt them."

"Well, you haven't done too good a job at that, have you?" Neville asked from over in a corner.

Quatre stilled and went quiet in Harry's arms. The others in the room held their collective breaths as they waited for Neville to continue. "After all, Yuy isn't exactly in too good a condition, now, is he?"

Harry tensed, waiting to stop Quatre from trying to attack Neville, but he needn't have tried. Quatre collapsed in his arms as Hermione ripped into Neville. Quatre's knees gave out on him, and Harry lowered them both to the floor.

"Sh, sh, sh," Harry whispered, patting Quatre's head as he began to sob. "It's going to be okay. He's going to be okay. We're all going to be okay." Harry kissed the top of Quatre's head, and he started to cry, too.

("Of all the insensitive, pigheaded,")

Harry heard only portions of Hermione's rant, focusing instead on his and Quatre's heartbeats. They were oddly in sync.

("brother—seriously hurt—how could you?")

Harry hummed one of Quatre's favorite songs, the first one Harry ever sang, the Malaia song. Quatre wrapped his arms around Harry's waist, and Harry's hands went around Quatre's cheeks.

All was quiet in the dorm, the only sound being the humming of the song. The brothers' tears were silent, weak and strong at the same time.

Harry finished the song, and Quatre started sobbing heavily. Unconsciously, knowing just how to help his brother, Harry reached out for Quatre's mind. In the past, Harry had been able to feel Quatre's emotions. Sometimes very strongly, such as when they were having a nightmare, but most of the time, the feeling was very weak. It had become such second nature for him to feel their emotions, that it was relegated to the back of his mind. Something to focus on only is something was wrong, if his brothers were hurt or afraid.

By instinct, Harry let blood out of his thumb. When Harry's blood and Quatre's tears mixed, Harry's mind touched Quatre's. When Harry touched Quatre's mind, it was that and so much more. Harry felt a tug at his stomach, much like a Portkey, and then he just wasn't in his body anymore. One minute he was himself, and the next he wasn't. He was Quatre and Harry.

Nelal looked at himself, reflected in his Other body beside him. He was sad because he wasn't completely whole. He needed his Other Other body, the other part of his mind. He looked at himself, and saw that he was crying. Nelal wiped the tears from his Other face, and his Other did the same for him. It was bliss being one with his Other.

Nelal pulled away from himself, so he wasn't touching his Other. The other groaned as he pulled away, desperate to stay as himself, with his Other. His connection with his other was still there, but lessening. He started to feel things his Other did not. Nelal closed his eyes, and broke the connection completely.

Harry opened his eyes, the connection with Quatre gone. He jumped back in surprise at what he saw. Quatre's blonde hair had chunks of black sprouting up everywhere, his nose had squashed, and his eyes were green. All in all, he looked more like Harry, as though he'd tried to take Harry's features and smush them on himself.

"What—what happened?" Harry asked, bewildered. He couldn't think straight. Had he really just done what he thought he had? Whatever that may be.

"Look at yourself," Quatre instructed.

Harry knew it had to be important, so he looked around in his trunk and dragged out a mirror. The one Sirius had given him. Taking a deep breath—and trying not to cry all over again over his late godfather—he held up the mirror to look at himself.

Harry prided himself on not screaming as his image, instead only giving a dignified _squeak_. Like Quatre, Harry's hair was a mosaic of black and blonde. His scar was lighter, and for the first time in his life, Harry had to squint to see it. Harry's nose was pointed, not the usual "button nose" as Hermione usually called his. And his eyes, his eyes were _blue_. Harry looked up at Quatre, the mirror dropping to the floor.

"Come on," Quatre said, getting to his feet. He offered a hand to Harry, and Harry took it. "Let's go to bed, and I'll tell you what we should have long ago."

Harry tried all night to go to sleep, but with the combination of the bed feeling horribly empty due to Heero's absence and his own thoughts over what Quatre told him, he failed spectacularly. Harry knew he should be angry with his family for not telling him earlier, but he just couldn't make himself feel it. In their positions, Harry probably would have done the same the same thing, giving them a few more months without holding such a heavy burden.

_Fusion_, Harry thought. Quite an innocuous little word that was going to change his life. _King._ Another word that now filled his mind. _Destiny. Fate. Special. Unique._ All words that meant one thing: Harry's life was not his own. Neither, for that matter, were Heero's and Quatre's.

Inextricably linked. One mind. One heart. One soul. Three bodies.

Harry sighed and turned over, throwing an arm over Quatre's hip. He would try to sleep, to put away all thoughts until morning. No doubt, everything would look better then.

Dorothy strode through the halls of the castle, taking the direct route to the Entrance Hall. Students weren't supposed to be out of their dorms after eleven, but the rules said nothing about being out _before_ a certain time. It was close to 5:30, and Dorothy felt that to be a perfectly satisfactory time to be out and about.

Dorothy reached the door and opened it. Sunrise was about to happen, and she wanted to get to the rendezvous point as early as possible. The sooner she—and the others—arrived, the sooner she could get to Heero.

"Great, you're already here," Dorothy said upon seeing her "guests." They were standing around haphazardly—at least, it seemed that way to Dorothy; there might actually be some kind of centaur logic to their order—which made it hard to count how many there were. At first glance, there looked to be about four dozen. All male, all in their fifties and sixties. Young, then. Standing near the edge of the cluster was the centaur Dorothy had met last night, Zetoth. And beside him was the only elderly centaur in the immediate surroundings.

Recognizing his as their leader, Dorothy went to him. "Ismea Mordal," she said, standing in front of him, "Naiyama to and representative of Malal, Nelat, and Imela LeFey, sons of Morgan LeFey the Seventh, eldest daughter of Aravu LeFey, Queen of Vanuli." Dorothy bowed, showing her respect to her elder.

"Brimor Koel," the centaur returned, his voice gruff, "leader of the clan Teldon, second brother to Bramtac Koel, High leader of the Forest Centaur Alliance, and ally to the house LeFey." Brimor bowed to Dorothy, a little bit stiffly.

_He must be over 300_, Dorothy mused, looking at the white hair and arthritic knees.

"Dona Maya," Dorothy said, shaking off her inappropriate thoughts. The one thing Dorothy envied centaurs for were their long lifespans. A typical Vanuli lived about as long as the typical wizard, men living to 197 and women living to 204. The atypical Vanuli, such as her Niamos, could live to be as old as 500, through the use of their combined magic.

"Dona Maya," Brimor said, returning the Vanuli greeting.

"I assume you've briefed your clan on the situation," Dorothy said, standing up straighter. Leading always put her in a much better mood.

"Of course," Brimor said. "However, I believe it would be best if you told them exactly what will happen. Some of them are a bit _apprehensive_, you see."

Dorothy took that to mean "scared shitless."

"Of course," Dorothy said, smiling while inwardly growling at the delay. Nobody could ever accuse Dorothy of being rude to her elders. Dorothy whispered the _Sonorous _charm and waited for the crowd of centaurs to be quiet. She was _not_ going to try to talk over them.

It took a few moments, but when Brimor motioned for silence, he got it. Dorothy smiled again at him and levitated a few feet in the air, so all the centaurs could see her.

"Now, I know you all know why you're here," she said, overlooking the crowd. A few—maybe a handful—scuffed their hooves on the ground, pointedly not looking at her. Like most purely magical species, centaurs had a reputations for being egotistical. Of course, the Vanuli had that same reputation, and everybody knew _that _was a complete falsehood. Vanuli _were_ better than any other species.

"And I know that some of you," she eyed the handful, "have some misgivings about helping out a "fairy race." However, you are bound by your alliance to do so, and you will do so, or else face the shame of your elders." Brimor nodded. It would be very shameful, indeed, if any of his clan members refused. Dangerous, as well. The Forest Centaur Alliance had a peace treaty—a contract—with the LeFey for many centuries. To break that over something so small would be devastating to the centaurs.

"You will each be giving up a portion of your magic," Dorothy said. Unlike humans would, the centaurs did not take that as a chance to chat. "Since there are so many of you, however, each individual will only donate a small amount." Dorothy held out her hand, and a Fury Orb grew out of it.

"This is a Fury Orb, as most of you know. In a few minutes, I will send it to collect magic from the first dozen of you. It is set at the second lowest setting. When it passes through you, you will feel a sharp sting, much like that of a wasp or bee. It will only take two thirds of a second, and then it will be over. Afterwards, you can expect to feel a little tired, like you ran for many miles without stopping. This sensation will gradually lessen and will be completely gone within a few days. If the sensation is _not_ gone, contact Brimor or Zetoth, and they will contact me about righting your condition."

Dorothy motioned to Brimor, and he ordered the centaurs to line up in four lines, twelve to each one. Dorothy stepped in front of the first line and let go of the Fury Orb. It zig-zagged through the centaurs—the first of which was Zetoth, Dorothy noted, with some pride—before returning to her hand. Dorothy gathered the Fury Shooter, fat with magic, in her left hand, and her right went about the motions of releasing it. Making a motion like that of tying a balloon, Dorothy released the Fury Orb. No longer an extension of Dorothy, it fell to the ground, bouncing lightly on the grass. Dorothy left it there and did the same thing with the other three sets. When Dorothy was finished, she gathered the four ex-Fury Orbs—more commonly known as Magic Givers—in a pouch at her hip.

Dorothy turned to Brimor, "Thank you, Brimor, leader of the Teldon, for your assistance in this crisis."

"It is an honor to aid one such as him, and one such as you," Brimor said and bowed once more to Dorothy. "Maya Dona, Miss Ismea."

"Maya Dona," she said, bowing back. Dorothy watched as Brimor led his people back into the Forbidden Forest When she could no longer see them, she turned and ran to the Infirmary.

Harry lay silently in his bed, still musing on his information, Quatre curled up around him. Harry hadn't slept a wink all night, his thoughts going round and round in his mind. He knew it was close to time to get up (basically, because his watch said, "almost time to get up"), and he knew that Ron would pounce on him at any moment, ready to go to the Quidditch pitch.

Ron had done so before every morning practice since becoming Captain in their sixth year. Thankfully, Harry had remembered Ron's tendencies and had been able to get Quatre and Heero back in Quatre's bed before Ron could see them. Except for this morning. With the entire school aware that they were Vanuli—and with Ron aware of so much more—Harry decided he wouldn't try to hide what was in his nature, anymore. So when Ron opened those curtains in five, four, three, two, one—

("Wake up, Harry," Ron yelled, flinging back the curtains.)

—he was going to going to get an eyeful of fairy culture.

Harry looked up as Ron sputtered. He petted Quatre's hair one last time and gently shoved his brother off him. As Harry climbed out of bed—Ron still doing a very accurate vocal impression of a dying motorcyle—he nudged a body pillow over for Quatre to latch onto.

"Morning, Ron," Harry said, patting his friend's shoulder as he passed him. "I'll be right there. I've just got to get," Harry rummaged through his dresser drawers and pulled out a vial, "this." Harry drank the Pepper-Up potion and waited for his ears to stop steaming.

Harry got his toothbrush and Quidditch robe sand went to the bathroom on the next floor up. The seventh years' dorm rooms were the second highest rooms in Gryffindor Tower, the highest being a bathroom. That, in effect, gave the seventh years their own bathroom, as no one else bothered to venture up that high. Harry brushed his teeth and changed into his Quidditch robes. He'd slept in his clothes, and they felt a bit grungy. Harry didn't bother to shower, knowing it would be pointless to do so before practice.

By the time Harry got back to the dorm room, Ron had stopped his motorcycle impersonation and was calmly waiting for Harry. "Look, Harry, about last night," Ron said. "I didn't—"

"I forgive you for last night," Harry said briskly. Ron tensed at his tone. Getting his broom, he stood in front of Ron, looking up at him. "I understand your concerns. I had them myself, at first." Ron relaxed and smiled. "However, that being said, never question my relationship with my family again. Never insinuate that they are working for, with, or to help Voldemort or any other Dark Lord of which you may think. Do not attempt to make me choose between my friends and my family. You won't like my choice." Harry finished and nodded at Ron. "You remember that, and we can still be friends. I want us to still be friends." Harry smiled.

Ron relaxed again—he'd tensed up during Harry's tirade. "Merlin, Harry, that's a rant worthy of Hermione," he said. Ron punched Harry lightly in the shoulder, and Harry read between the lines. He and Ron were still friends.

"Wait'll you hear the one Neville's getting," Harry said, and Ron laughed.

_At least not everything's changed, _Harry thought as they walked out of the room.

Dorothy stood at the foot of Heero's bed, staring down at her Niamo. It had been disappointingly easy to break into the Infirmary, and she made a mental note to talk to Madam Pomfrey about stepping up the security. Heero couldn't protect himself in his current state, and if Dorothy couldn't be with him 24/7, she was going to be damn sure he was safe in her absence.

Dorothy circled the bed and noticed the changes since she'd been there. She smelled the odors of three different people. One was undeniably Maddy, but Dorothy couldn't quite pin down who the other two were. They were male, that much she could tell. And the scents were familiar, so they were people she was around often. She knew it wasn't Quatre or Harry because she would recognize their scents instantly. Dorothy cursed herself for her inability. If she were Relena, she'd have known the intruders' entire family lines by now.

"Wakey, wakey," Dorothy said, reaching down to brush the hair out of Heero's eyes. She reached into the pouch at her side and drew out a Magic Giver. "You've been asleep long enough, Imela. It's time to wake up."

She let go of the Magic Giver and stepped away from Heero. It hovered for a moment, flashing through all the colors of the spectrum. When it reached violet, the Magic Giver dropped sharply, straight into Heero's belly. Dorothy waited for him to stop glowing before dropping the second on into him.

When Heero had absorbed all four of the Magic Givers, Dorothy stepped into Heero's personal space. And prayed. Dorothy stood watching Heero's face for she didn't know how long. Nothing happened. Not so much as a twitch of his eyebrow.

Dejected, Dorothy slumped into the plastic hospital chair by Heero's bed. _Well,_ she thought, _I knew it was a long shot_.Dorothy grabbed Heero's hand and buried her face into it. _I will not cry again. I will _not._ I am Ismea Mordal, and I am stronger than that!_

"It's okay to cry, sweetie," a male voice said behind her. Dorothy tensed as a cold wind touched her hair. She whirled around, desperate to confirm her suspicion.

"Heero."

Harry flew away from the rest of the team under the pretext of looking for the snitch. He would never admit it—except to, maybe, all of Gryffindor and Ravenclaw and Hufflepuff—but Geoffrey Hooper, one of the new Chasers (along with fourth year Victoria Frobisher, who finally came to her senses that Quidditch was more important than Charms Club) was an annoying little git. Harry could not see how Ron had picked such a whiner over Dennis Creevey. Except, of course, for the obviously superior flying, throwing, and catching skills.

Harry saw a hint of gold and flew towards it, up, up, up in the sky. The snitch was being especially elusive today. They'd been practicing for over an hour already, and Harry'd only caught it once. Usually, Harry would have caught it three or four times by now. _I must not be at the top of my game, _Harry thought. _What with everything that's been going on, it's a small wonder that I haven't gone stark raving mad._ Seeing the snitch again, fluttering not five feet in front of him, Harry reached out and caught it.

"_Squeeeee_!" Ron's whistle sounded through the air. Harry had caught the snitch just in time.

"Time to pack it in!" Ron yelled from the other side of the pitch. Harry waved to show that he heard, and he started his descent.

Harry was halfway to the ground before it happened. His vision flickered between normal and nothing. He felt lightheaded, more so than was normal for this altitude. Harry slowed down, wary of the change in his body, knowing the cause of it. He concentrated on getting to the ground safely, before his Sight threw his head on into vision.

He just stepped onto the ground when the vision overcame him. He swayed in the air before sinking to the ground.

"Heero," he whispered, before tumbling over.

Everything was black. That's how Heero knew where he was. Sort of, anyway. Black and cold meant death. Heero would know—he'd died once for every year of his life. Seventeen deaths—and seventeen rebirths—in the span of seventeen years. _It must be some type of record_, Heero mused.

Heero wasn't dead at the moment, though. He had been before, earlier, right after the Thing hit him in the chest and all there was was light and pain and blood. He came back to life pretty soon from that. At least, Heero thought it was soon. Time was weird when you were dead. Or in a coma.

That's what Heero figured was happening now. It was pitch black in his mind; he couldn't see anything, but he could hear. Oh! He could hear all the wonderful sounds, all the people that came to see him. Quatre and Harry and Dorothy and Daemon and—dare he think it?—even Duo! Heero tried to respond to everyone who came to see him, but he couldn't. He knew why. Maddy said he didn't have any magic left. The Thing took it from him.

Dorothy tried to help Heero. She pushed strange magic in him that made his bones and blood and teeth hum with it. Heero closed his eyes—the "in his mind eyes"; his real eyes were already closed—and tried to tell Dorothy that it was okay. She took his hand, and he knew she wanted to cry. She _needed_ to cry, after everything that had happened in the last few days. Weeks? Months?

"Sh," Heero tried to say. "It's okay to cry, sweetie." Dorothy tensed around his hand. He tried to get her to relax by mentally patting her head. She loved that as much as he and Quatre and Harry and every other Vanuli did.

"Heero," Dorothy said. She wasn't touching him anymore. He didn't know where she was.

"Dorothy," Heero said.

"How did you get all the way over there?" she asked, obviously bewildered.

"What?" Heero said. His eyes flew open, and he saw himself across the room, in the bed.

Selune


	28. While You Were Sleeping

Disclaimer: I do not own any things Harry Potter—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to the wonderful J. K. Rowling and whomever else she decides. I do not own anything Gundam Wing—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to (I think) Bandai and Sunrise.

Spoilers: This fic contains spoilers for books 1-5 of Harry Potter and all of the episodes of Gundam Wing. This fic does not include Endless Waltz.

Rating: R

Pairings: Neville/Harry, 2x1

Summary: Two years ago, the One Year War ended. At this time, the five heroes—the Gundam pilots—disappeared from the Muggle world. Three of them—pilots 02, 03, and 05—reappeared shortly after in the Wizarding world, as students at Hogwarts School of Witchraft and Wizardry. Now, twenty months after the fact, Heero Yuy and Quatre Winner are coming to Hogwarts, and they're bringing all of their secrets with them. The world—especially one Harry Potter—will never be the same.

Peace, Love, and Family:

The Story of the Vanuli Three

Chapter 27: While You Were Sleeping

Harry sat at the Gryffindor table at breakfast, Quatre to his right, Hermione to his left, Neville in front of him, and Ron to Neville's right. Harry fidgeted, playing with his napkins, moving his food around, and all in all _not_ doing what a growing boy should be doing at breakfast—namely, eating.

Today was the day. The day that Harry would meet the rest of his brothers and sisters. Understandably, he was nervous. _What if they don't like me?_ he thought. _Or what if I don't like them? Maybe none of us will like one another._

As upsetting as that train of thought was, Harry gladly didn't move the tracks because hiding in the back of his mind was another thought that Harry tried to squash by sheer willpower.

_What if it doesn't work? What if we just make it worse—again?_

Fourteen days and ten magical beings. The length of Heero's coma and the types of magic Dorothy, Quatre, and Harry pumped into Heero to try to get him to wake up. To say they were disasters would be like saying Dudley was "a little overweight."

The first time Dorothy introduced foreign magic into Heero, she used centaur magic. It had caused Heero's mind to wake up—but not his body—which resulted in his mind being temporarily thrown out of his body. In full centaur gear, meaning that Heero had, in effect, astral projected himself, as a centaur, halfway across his hospital room. Harry only knew about it after Quidditch practice, when he had a vision, seeing through Dorothy's eyes.

After that, Dorothy wasn't allowed to try to wake up Heero on her own.

Over the course of the next thirteen days, Harry, Quatre, and Dorothy had thrown so much magic from so many different species at Heero that it was a wonder he didn't go into cardiac arrest. (At least, that's what Maddy said when she found out what they were doing.)

The second time—two days after Dorothy's initial try—they used the magic of Heero's werewolves, but they only used the ones who were born werewolves. Werewolves who were "made" tended to have magic similar to that of wizards, or of whatever species they were before they were turned. Heero's reaction to the werewolf magic was, again, to throw his mind out of his body. That time as a large brown wolf.

The very next day—night—their vampire allies showed up. Making sure the centaurs didn't see them (the two species were bitter enemies, for some reason), they had met the vampires outside of the castle. Quatre and Harry had "borrowed" their magic, while Dorothy kept watch. The vampire magic didn't react exactly as expected. After absorbing the magic, Heero didn't astral project, as he had the other two times. Instead, he had turned very pale, grew fangs, and bit his lip (accidentally, they thought, what with the new fangs and all), making them bleed. Thankfully, Heero's stint as a sort-of vampire was short-lived. The next morning, he was—relatively—his normal self.

That morning, they fed Heero hippocampus magic. Hippocampi were half-horse, half-fish creatures. They lived in both fresh and saltwater, flourishing in large spaces. Quatre and Heero had become allies with a school off the coast of Spain. When Quatre mentioned his alliance to the school of hippocampi in the lake, they were only two happy to help. Unfortunately, it—like the others—didn't turn out as they wanted it to. Instead of waking up, the magic gave Heero all-over body scales and a horse's mane, to boot. It only lasted about half an hour, but it was a picture Harry would gladly never see again.

The fifth attempt, Harry and his family used the merpeople in the lake. Because Quatre had some sort of phobia and Harry didn't know how, Dorothy changed into a merrow and negotiated with them. Of course, Dorothy got what she wanted with minimal exertion. When they had tried the magic on Heero, it had seemed about to work. Heero had groaned and twitched over to his side after not moving by himself in a little over a week. When Heero changed, they had all been shocked. Heero's legs had become fins, his hair had grown down to mid-fin—it was blonde, too—and Heero's upper half had become dainty, almost feminine. Except for his face and the lack of breasts, Heero had looked much like the mermaid portrait in the Prefect's bathroom. Heero had been like that for two days.

The day Heero changed back to his normal body, more of their allies arrived. They were beautiful women, their only flaw being their clawed feet. They didn't speak the entire time they were on the grounds of Hogwarts. Heero did, though , after astral projecting once again. Heero's haunting song brought wizards from the deepest bowels of the Slytherin dungeons. It had only been then that Harry figured out what those women were—Sirens. They had had an awful time keeping the enchanted wizards out of the Infirmary. Dorothy eventually had to charm the main entrance with the strongest lock known to the Vanuli.

The day after that fiasco, Harry awoke to the sound of buzzing in his ears. Pixies—not just the Cornish race, but every type—had arrived to try to wake up "the Vanish prince." Harry had been taken aback at their archaic pronunciation, even more so at the reason they wanted to help. They would be famous in the fairy world if they revived a Vanuli when no one else could. Despite their reason, Harry and Quatre had let them try. Their magic was so weak, Heero only turned electric blue (the color of pixies) for a few minutes, and that was it.

After the pixies, the thestrals attempted it with their magic. That had been a hell of a time, trying to use the Fury Shooters without scaring the horses. Much to Harry's—and Quatre's and Dorothy's—disappoinment, nothing had happened. Not one damn thing.

After the thestrals, several dozen Veela showed up on the steps of Hogwarts, looking for the fame, as well. Dorothy had had such hope for them because the two species' magics wee so similar in many respects, but in the end, she was disappointed. Heero had astral projected for several hours—the longest time yet—as a Veela. They had actually been able to hold a conversation with Heero and comfort him a bit, so Harry didn't think it was a complete waste of time.

The wood nymphs came two days after—yesterday, in fact—and they were a bigger disappointment than the Veelas. After absorbing the nymphs' magic, a garden had sprouted up around Heero. Poppy had freaked when she'd seen it , and the three Vanuli had spent the entire night cleaning it up.

But all that was then, and this was now. The final attempt. If Heero didn't wake up after this, he was just going to have to sleep for the next four weeks.

"It'll be okay, Harry," Hermione said, patting his forearm. "All of my research says it should worked, so don't worry so much."

Harry clasped Hermione's hand with his right hand. "I know, Hermione," he said. "I'm probably worrying for nothing."

Harry looked across the Great Hall and Dorothy. To the casual—and maybe even the not-so-casual—observer, she was the strong, put together Dot that she always was. Harry could see the slight redness in her eyes, due to lack of sleep, and the unusual messiness of her eyebrows—they almost didn't fork—and they way she kept shuffling her food around her plate, not eating any of it.

"It's time," Quatre said, lightly squeezing Harry's shoulder. Harry almost jumped out of his seat, he was so startled. Harry nodded, and the two brothers got up, not looking back to make sure Dorothy was behind them.

The family stood outside the castle walls, their mother having just given the signal that they had arrived. It had taken them two weeks to get here, having to wait until both Mother and their oldest sister were able to be there. Allegara—who was most definitely not the oldest sister, but was, in fact, the youngest—stood with her Naiyama, Imaiya, on the fringe of her thirty-three siblings. She had been raring to go the minute Ismea's owl had entered Haven, but like the others, she'd had to wait. Mother forbid Morgans the Seventh and Eighth missed this once in a lifetime event.

"—we are the Royal family, and we will act as such," Allegara's mother said from upon the landing. "You will not stare, gawk, or otherwise gaze inappropriately at any of the wizard inventions. You will not..."

Allegara tuned her out. Mother had been saying the exact same thing ever since they left Haven. Everything she said boiled down to one thing—"Don't embarrass me." Not "don't embarrass the family," or "don't embarrass our house." Morgan didn't care so much about the reputation of her House, except for how it reflected on her, seeing as how she was Head of LeFey House.

Allegara looked around at what she could see of the grounds. She had grown up around Hogwarts, since she was the fifth child between her mother and her father, and her father was a centaur. To this day, Allegara felt more comfortable, more stable, on four legs than on two, but as the grandaughter of the Queen, the daughter of the Head of LeFey House, and the sister of the future King, Allegara couldn't afford to indulge herself like that. Centaurs were "foul, smelly beasts with no class whatsoever," according to Mother. Allegara sometimes wondered if Mother had felt the same way when she was fucking one.

"Pay attention, Allegara," Imaiya said, poking her in the ribs.

"Yes, mother," Allegara said, petulantly.

Imaiya had been Allegara's Naiyama since she turned sixteen, six years ago. Allegara was always the playful sort of person, even now that she was twenty-two. Even so, when Imaiya had refused to declare Allegara an adult on her eighteenth Life Day, Allegara had been disappointed and angry enough to invoke the Rite of Kaigel. After Imaiaya finished wiping the floor with her, Allegara had come to except—no, embrace—her Naiyama's decision. She was a child who never had to grow up, and she loved it.

"They're opening the doors," Imaiya said, taking Allegara by the elbow, so she wouldn't lose her.

"Are you ready?" Quatre asked, his hand on the doorknob.

"Not really," Harry said, looking a little green.

"Too bad," Quatre said, right as Dorothy ran her fingers through Harry's hair and said, "I'll take care of him."

Secure in the knowledge Harry wouldn't be quite as overwhelmed as he, himself, had been, Quatre opened the door, expecting to see his oldest sibling (on either side of his family) at the front of the crowd. He was surprised to see not only Morgan LeFey the Eighth, but his mother as well.

"Hello, Mother," Quatre said when he got his voice back. He coughed once and raised his voice. "Donai Maya, my family."

"Hello, Malal," Mother said, making her way into the Entrance Hall. "Donai Maya, my son." Mother looked over at Harry and Dorothy. "Dona Maya, Ismea. And you must be Nelat." Moragan reached out to pat his head, but Quatre say him flinch. Not much, but enough that Mother could tell. She pretended not to notice, but she put her hand down without touching Harry. "Donai Maya, Nelat, my son."

Mother turned back to Quatre. "What would you like for us to do?" she inquired.

"I wasn't exactly expecting _you_, Mother, but this is a nice surprise. I have some questions for you after... Just afterwards," Quatre said. He would ask his mother if she knew how one of her Fury Shooters fell into enemy hands. After she told him the truth, Quatre would be able to put that suspicion to rest. "At the moment, however, I ask for everyone to follow me." Quatre began walking towards the Infirmary, and his family followed. "We will, doubtless, meet a witch or two before we reach the Hospital Wing. I ask that you say nothing to them. Not one single word. There are certain family secrets they don't need to know.

"Once we reach the Infirmary, and ultimately, Imela's room, I ask that everyone pair up into twos. You all know what to do after that. Nelat, Ismea, and myself will make up the last team. After you and your partner have finished, I ask that you leave the Infirmary and wait in the hall. There is a very limited amount of space, and Imela is not the only patient."

Quatre reached the doors to the Hospital Wing, opened them, and went inside. "I ask that only four teams be in the Infirmary at any one time," he said, quieter than before. Quatre motioned for the first four teams to follow him to Heero's room. Quatre would be overseeing the procedure, making sure that nobody drained themselves too much and that Heero's magic didn't reach toxic levels.

"Okay, Mother, Morgan, you may begin the process." Quatre watched from the other side of Heero as his mother and sister drew their magic out of their bodies and into the Fury Orbs. They separated the magic from themselves and sent it to be absorbed by Heero. The entire process took less than a minute.

A little over half an hour later, his sister, Allegara, and her Naiyama Imaiya finished, leaving only Quatre, Harry, and Dorothy remaining. Unlike the rest of their family, they decided to do this with a little bit more finesse. Quatre and Harry stood on opposite sides of the bed, with Dorothy at the foot. They all clasped hands and focused on their energy. Quatre could feel himself draining, but he could also feel Harry and Dorothy getting weaker, too. Quatre opened his eyes and saw a huge Fury Shooter in the middle of their triangle, right over Heero's belly. The three of them released their hands and stepped away, causing the Magice Giver to fall straight down.

They sat in the plastic chairs. All they could do now was wait.

"I can't believe it didn't work," Hermione said that night at dinner. "I was sure, just absolutely _certain_ that it would work. All the books said so."

Harry ignored his friend and ate his potatoes. Today had been the worst day of his life. After the hideous disaster that morning, Harry had been forced to make conversation with his brothers, sisters, and mother, twelve of whom hit on him within the first forty seconds of talking to him. After that, he'd been forced to go to class, which meant Double Potions with the Slytherins.

He had been working with Ron, as usual, and ended up adding just a little too much powdered bicorn, resulting in the potion turning the exact opposite of the right color, and causing teeny, tiny explosion. In Snape's face. Needless to say, Snape hadn't been too pleased, and Harry and Ron had to clean it up, making them late for Double Defense.

The good news was, Professor Lupin didn't mind so much that they were late, seeing as how Quatre had explained what was going on. Defense was actually pretty good, in fact, until Remus' boggart for the third years escaped its cabinet. It caused pandemonium among the students. The boggart turned into Snape, Umbridge, surprisingly, a teapot, and himself and Heero dead (that last one was probably from Quatre). By the time the boggart reached Harry, most of the class was in tears, trying to remember the spell to get rid of it.

For Harry, the boggart changed into a boy. A very beautiful, sensual boy. Harry couldn't figure out why he was afraid of _that_. But then he took a closer look. The boy had hair as black as midnight under a new moon. His eyes were like blue crystals, icy and perfect. His lips were plump and red, almost too fat to be natural. Harry noticed those and a dozen other body parts, and it wasn't too hard to add one plus one and come up with three. Harry had screamed bloody murder until Hermione had the good sense to vanquish it.

Harry was just waiting for someone to ask about his fear.

Double Herbology hadn't been bad, after lunch, except for the fact that his and Neville's relationship was strained at the moment, and the two of them were partners. Technically, they had made up a week ago—after the mermaid incident—and what a make up it had been! But the next day, when Neville saw Quatre and Harry sleeping in the same bed, he'd gone ballistic. Again. Harry hated to do it, but he was seriously thinking about breaking it off with Neville. Completely. Harry would try to talk with him—a real, honest-to-God heart-to-heart—after Heero woke up.

Which was the one and only thing that tipped the day from "bad" into "worst of life." Their attempt at waking up Heero that morning would be the last. The very last. So Harry would just have to wait the—most likely—four weeks until Heero woke up.

"So what are you going to do tonight?" Harry asked Quatre, sipping his soup. He didn't really feel like eating, but he hadn't eaten all day.

"I've got a potion to make," Quatre said, looking up at the ceiling. "I just hope I can make it all in time. Dorothy's going to help me." Quatre looked at Harry and bit his lip. "What about you?"

"I'm probably going to stop by the guest quarters for a while, then go to bed. Allegara invited me to play a game with her," Harry said, referring to his youngest, older sister. For some reason that Harry couldn't figure out, she reminded him of Tonks. "I have to get some sleep for the game tomorrow."

Tomorrow was the third Quidditch match of the season, and the first one that Gryffindor would play. They were playing Ravenclaw. Harry sighed. He'd really wanted Heero to watch him play.

Harry would probably go to the Infirmary later, if he could get away from Allegara in time. He wanted—needed—to see Heero again.

Morgan sat beside Imela in a chair she conjured. She'd looked at the one provided for a full minute before disgustedly pushing it out of her way. She was a member of the Royal family and, as such, was used to much better accouterments.

Morgan fumed as she took the prince's hand in her own. _How dare he!_ she thought. She knew exactly who had hurt her brother and how he had been hurt. _As a matter of fact, how dare _she_!_

About ten years ago—when Morgan was in her late eighties—Morgan had watched as her mother gave Fury Shooters to a seven year-old Imela. Five years after that, Imela had, for some unknown reason, relinquished his defense and gave them to a wizard scientist, Dr. J. Neither Morgan nor her husband nor her children nor her siblings could figure out why he would do something like that. After a while of searching and finding nothing, Morgan stopped looking, and eventually, she forgot about it. Until now.

She didn't care too much now about why Imela did what he did. Her only concern was about her mother.

_Why didn't Mother destroy those Fury Shooters years ago?_

Heero was floating in the blackness, for once. He didn't think about anything important, preferring instead to just let his mind drift wherever it wanted to go.

As far as Heero could tell, he'd been in this coma for somewhere between a week and a half and two weeks. He figured it out by counting the visits. About every day or every other day, his brothers and Dorothy would come in with different types of magic. They would force it through him, and all kinds of weird things would happen. Heero wasn't sure whether to be amused or annoyed at it.

This last time was different, though. Instead of just Quatre, Harry, and Dorothy, dozens of people came to visit. Heero didn't even try to figure out who they were; their presences evoked a natural response in him, and he recognized them as family.

With the other magics, Heero had tried to fight them. They were different and wrong and should not be a part of him. Heero's rejection of the magic was what caused the different reactions in him. Of that, Heero was sure, and if he hadn't been then, he was now. Heero accepted the new magic of the other Vanuli as though it was his own. And now it was.

The new magic flowed through Heero's body, making him stronger as he drifted on a sea of nothingness. Heero could feel himself getting warm, starting at his belly and flowing to all places within him. Warm turned to warmer turned to hot turned to scalding. Heero struggled against this even as he told himself to just let it happen. Body and mind warred with one another, each intent on winning this battle.

Heero burned and burned and burned, the magic coursing through him like poison. He felt his body under under him, over him, within him.

_Just ride it out!_ he screamed at himself. But he couldn't. It hurt! Oh, it hurt so much! And then Heero just screamed.

Maddy was in her office—it used to be a storage room, but Poppy had converted it after the first week of Heero's illness—reading a trashy romance novel called _Paint By Numbers_. Maddy laughed again at the title characters' names. She knew it wasn't enough to get the author sued—she thought so, anyway—but she sometimes wondered what her brother would do if he heard about the book. Especially since the "Quatre" in the novel was a whiney, sniveling, spoiled brat and the "Heero" wasn't much better—even though _she_ was the heroine.

Maddy leaned back in her chair and turned the page. This was the third book in the series—they came out every six months or so—and Maddy wanted to finish it quickly.

She had just gotten to a good part—the mandatory introduction of the bodice-ripping bad boy "Duo"—when she heard a noise. Having seen several horror vids and knowing what happened to the supporting characters who wandered off on their own, Maddy got out her wand and carefully approached her door.

There were only a few patients in the Infirmary at the moment. The Ravenclaw keeper, who had hurt himself during practice. The mandatory Gryffindor caught in a Potions mishap. And of course, Heero. Even though Heero was the only patient she was actually treating, she looked in on Michael Corner and Colin Creevey before moving onto Heero's room, in the semi-permanent wing. He had been moved their after the third day of his coma.

As Maddy approached Heero's room, she heard the unholy yowl again, and flung open the door. The sight before her was enough to scare away Director Une, if she were a witch. The curtains and the bedsheets were on fire, and as Heero thrashed about on the bed, then opened his mouth and shrieked again, he was still on the bed. A woman no older than forty tried to hold Heero down.

Maddy walked into the room, quickly confirming the situation. "What happened?" she asked the woman she assumed to be Heero's mother.

"I'm not sure," the woman said, grabbing Heero's hand as he tried to scratch her. "He was normal, unconscious, and then the was like this. It was very sudden."

Maddy nodded her head. "Step back," she told the Vanuli. The woman looked as Maddy as though she were crazy. "Step back," Maddy ordered again. She was the Healer here, and this woman better understand that! The woman nodded and let go.

_"Petrificus Totalus_," Maddy said, cursing Heero. Satisfied for the moment, she turned to the Vanuli woman. "Go get Quatre, Harry, and Dorothy. I don't know how long this will last."

"Who?" the woman said, and Maddy recognized her mistake.

"Malal, Nelat, and Ismea," Maddy said, turning back to her patient. When she saw out of the corner of her eye that the woman was still there, she whirled back around. "Don't just stand there. Go!"

The Vanuli ran off, and Maddy turned back to Heero. The curse wouldn't hold him long, and he was already starting to twitch.

Selune


	29. Waking Up is Hard to Do

Disclaimer: I do not own any things Harry Potter—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to the wonderful J. K. Rowling and whomever else she decides. I do not own anything Gundam Wing—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to (I think) Bandai and Sunrise.

Spoilers: This fic contains spoilers for books 1-5 of Harry Potter and all of the episodes of Gundam Wing. This fic does not include Endless Waltz.

Rating: R

Pairings: Neville/Harry, 2x1

Summary: Two years ago, the One Year War ended. At this time, the five heroes—the Gundam pilots—disappeared from the Muggle world. Three of them—pilots 02, 03, and 05—reappeared shortly after in the Wizarding world, as students at Hogwarts School of Witchraft and Wizardry. Now, twenty months after the fact, Heero Yuy and Quatre Winner are coming to Hogwarts, and they're bringing all of their secrets with them. The world—especially one Harry Potter—will never be the same.

Peace, Love, and Family:

The Story of the Vanuli Three

Chapter 28: Waking Up is Hard to Do

Heero was so hot, his skin burning, his body twitching in agony. He tried to scratch, curse, charm, _anything_ the pain away, but he couldn't move, and he couldn't speak. Hands pawed at him, holding him against the bed, leaving ice wherever they touched.

Heero didn't like the touch. It was unfamiliar and wrong and not Harry or Quatre or Dorothy or Relena or anybody who could touch him and make it all better. Harry would feel right—he would help make the fire go away. Quatre, too, and the rest of his sub-family. They should be there, helping him. They always were before.

_Quatre! Harry!_ Heero thought as another pulse of fire burned through him.

"I'll see you later," Quatre said, giving Harry a pat on the shoulder. "Dorothy wants to go, now." She had been motioning for them to leave the Great Hall for the past fifteen minutes. Quatre was reluctant to leave because he knew that he was in for a long, long night of potion making. Normally, Quatre could happily spend days on end brewing some new and improved miracle concoction—or not—but tonight, he would rather be nowhere near a cauldron. It put their failure at healing Heero to the front of his mind. Not to mention, Quatre was nervous about the results of the potions.

It was too late for Quatre to make any Wolfsbane potion. It was too late two weeks ago when Heero was hurt. The Wolfsbane potion took a month to make, and that was with pre-prepared ingredients. Quatre was going to have to duplicate Remus' potion (which he still got from Snape, to avoid suspicion as to why he didn't need it anymore) using the _Conduprico_ elixir. Quatre was going to have to make several dozen doses of Wolfsbane from the doses Remus had squirreled away from the last two months. Given the properties of the duplicating potion and the complexity of the Wolfsbane potion, it was likely that the resulting mix would be ineffective, at least partially, and Hogwarts would have over a hundred rabid, ravenous werewolves prowling around in the Forbidden Forest.

It was not a good situation.

Quatre got up from the table and motioned for Dorothy to follow him. He might as well go ahead and get started.

_I should probably leave, too_, Harry thought. The dinner hour would be up in five minutes, and he was almost the last person at the table. He was saved from that fate by Gracie and Greysa Freebird, twin third years who had twin crushes on Dennis Creevey, if the rumor mill was to be believed. There were half a dozen other students scattered among the other tables, three of them at Slytherin. Barton, Maxwell, and Rosencrantz.

Harry could never figure out those three—or most Slytherins, for that matter. Dorothy included.

Barton was quiet, quieter than any other Slytherin Harry had ever met (and that included Blaise Zabini, a seventh year whose name Harry hadn't known until sixth year). He never talked in class except when he was called on, and even then, he used the least amount of words possible to convey the correct answer. And it was always the correct answer.

If Harry watched him long enough, his eyes would eventually flicker over to Quatre, look him over, then flick back, unnoticeable except if you were looking for it. By Quatre's own admission, he and Barton had started to start something in the middle of the Muggle war. For some reason, it had fizzled out. Quatre didn't like to talk about it, and Harry knew why now—Quatre cared nothing for anyone who wasn't family, and that included Barton.

Unlike Barton, Maxwell wasn't quite the enigma he pretended to be. On the outside, he was the same as every other Slytherin to ever attend Hogwarts. He was a pureblood (according to him, anyway. According to the gossip, which Harry never listened to, Maxwell was an orphan and didn't even know who his parents were.), he was overly ambitious (Harry shuddered in remembrance of the day Snape had made all tell their dream jobs, to make sure a truth potion was made correctly), and he hated Gryffindors. Except he didn't .

Heero loved to talk about Maxwell, and the picture he painted was a lot different from the Maxwell Harry saw. Heero's Duo was kind. He would give you the shirt off his back if you were a friend. Heero's Duo was a clown. He was loud and boisterous, and Heero cried himself to sleep some nights after talking about how mean he'd been to Maxwell during the war, and how he'd ignored him. Heero's Duo wasn't the withdrawn, sullen Slytherin Harry had observed over the past year and a half, and it made Harry think. Which Maxwell was the real Maxwell?

The real Rosencrantz was elusive, too. Everything about him screamed "EVIL!" to Harry. From being one of Malfoy's sidekicks to taunting Hufflepuff first years, Rosencrantz had his Slytherin persona down pat. At the beginning of the year, on the train, Rosencrantz had made fun of Heero with exquisite cruelty. Everything Quatre told Harry about Rosencrantz and his past with Heero made Harry's blood boil. Still...what Rosencrantz did on Halloween was miraculous. If he hadn't teen there, they might have lost Heero for good. Rosencrantz confused Harry, and he wasn't happy about it.

_When did the minor characters start being actual people?_ Harry thought, angry with himself for wasting his time thinking about unimportant people. _Oh, well._ Harry looked around and saw that he and the Slytherins were the last people in the Great Hall. _I guess I should go._

Harry got up, grabbing his things and heading towards the door.

_CRACK!_

"MisterHarryPottersir," a squeaky voice said from behind him. "I is glad to be finding you. I is having a message from MistressMorgan."

Harry turned around to face Dobby. The House Elf was being loud enough for his voice to echo. "What is it?"

"MistressMorgan is saying for MisterHarryPottersir to be going to the Infirmary at once. MisterHeeroYuysir is to be waking up bad," Dobby said.

"Heero's awake?" Harry asked, grabbing Dobby by the shoulders. "Are you sure? Is he okay? Does Quatre know yet?"

"I is not knowing," Dobby said. "MistressMorgan told me to be telling you right away."

"Right, yes, I should be going, then," Harry said, turning back to the doors.

"MistressMorgan says I am to be taking you there," Dobby said, touching Harry's hand.

"Oh, yeah," Harry said, trying to clear his mind. His head was so jumbled. Heero was awake! "House Elves can Apparate in Hogwarts. Go ahead and take me to Heero, please."

"Oh, MisterHarrryPottersir said 'please,' " Dobby gushed. "MisterHarryPottersir is so nice! Right away, MisterHarryPottersir."

"Something's going on," Daemon said after watching Potter and the House Elf Apparate away.

"Do you think so?" Duo asked harshly from the other side of the table. "What do you suppose it concerns?"

"Heero, you idiot," Daemon snapped, tearing his eyes off the door. Was Duo really that stupid?

"I know that perfectly well, Rosencrantz," Duo said, getting up from the table. "I guess no one ever taught you what 'rhetorical question' meant."

"Why I oughta—" Daemon leapt from his seat and was halfway across the table before Trowa caught him.

It had been like that for two weeks, after the night Daemon eavesdropped on Duo in the Hospital Wing. Duo or Daemon would say something, the other would take offense, and Trowa would act as referee—and stop them from killing each other. It wasn't exactly a perfect setup, and they weren't exactly Daemon's friends, but it helped with the stress of waiting for Heero to get better. Not to mention, it was good for Daemon to have other war buddies around who had never tried to kill him.

"I suggest," Trowa said, pulling Daemon back onto his feet, "that we go to the Infirmary and attempt to find out what's got Potter in such a tizzy."

Duo and Daemon both agreed, shaking hands at Trowa's prompt. Daemon and Duo would never be what anyone would call friends, but as two people who cared about Heero Yuy, they could be civil to each other every once in a while.

"Well, somebody's going to have to tell Wufei," Duo said, eyeing Daemon.

Well, maybe not.

"There is no way in Hell," Daemon snarled, "that I'm going to spend Merlin knows how long tracking down your Ravenclaw friend, while you go see Heero."

"Fine, then," Duo said. "Trowa?"

"No," Trowa said, slipping back into the monotone he used while thinking very hard. "I'm not going to leave you two alone to kill each other in my absence. It would reflect badly on Slytherin as a whole, and me in particular."

"Then what _do_ you suggest we do?" Daemon asked, exasperated. They were wasting valuable seconds here arguing with one another, when they could be heading towards the Hospital Wing.

Trowa sighed. "I guess we'll all just go find Wufei together."

"But—" Duo protested.

"I don't—" Daemon said.

Trowa pulled them both up to his eye level by way of their collars. "We. Are. Going. Together. Or. Not. At All," he said through clenched teeth, finally showing the stress of the last fourteen days.

"Okay," Duo and Daemon said together.

Quatre followed the House Elf—Timbly, or something like that—who Apparated him and Dorothy to the Infirmary. It was pandemonium in there. Half or more, most likely all who could be found, of Quatre's Vanuli siblings were milling around in there. Maddy was running back and forth between Heero's private room and a large table with many different vials set up in the middle of the Infirmary proper.

"Get me the Pyro-Soother," Maddy yelled from Heero's room.

Most of the noise—and there was a lot of it—was coming form in there. Quatre sniffed and smelled charred flesh, curtains, and something he couldn't identify.

No one moved to get Maddy the potion, all under the impression that someone else would do it. Quatre sighed and grabbed the potion (One-hundred percent GUARANTEED to soothe all your burns, bumps, and bruises!) and ran into Heero's room, Dorothy at his heels.

Quatre barely had time to notice Harry's presence before Maddy grabbed the vial from his hands. While Maddy rubbed the salve over Heero's chest, Quatre joined Harry, Dorothy, and his sister Morgan in putting out the fires around the room. As soon as he put one out, another one sprang up behind it.

"What's going on?" Quatre yelled over the crackling.

"I'm not sure yet!" Maddy yelled back, now holding Heero's body onto the bed. "And would somebody _please _bring me the _damn _Sleeping Draught?"

Allegara rushed in with a vial Quatre recognized as a moderate sedative. It would put Heero out cold, but he'd be awake again in about a half an hour. Two of Quatre's brothers—Larol and Hatir, if he remembered correctly—held Heero down as Maddy pried open his mouth and forced him to drink the potion.

Almost immediately, the fires in the room snuffed themselves out, and Quatre could hear something other than their crackling.

"Okay, Maddy, what happened?" Quatre asked as soon as he got his bearings back.

Maddy huffed and lightly patted Heero's shin under the miraculously unscathed sheet. "I''m really not sure," she said, pinching the bridge of her nose with her other hand. "My only guess right now is that the mixture of magics in Heero caused some sort of chain reaction when he woke up. He was calling for you and Harry for the first few minutes, which rapidly deteriorated to incoherent screaming, and then to nothing."

"Is he going to be all right?" Harry asked.

"Of course he's going to be all right," Dorothy snapped. "He just needs his family."

Dorothy crawled in the bed with Heero, mending any charred material as she went. She hugged Heero's back to her chest and started cooing at him.

"I'll have to do some tests to make sure, but Dorothy might be right," Maddy said.

"Then what are we waiting for?" Harry asked. Without waiting for an answer, he crawled onto the bed, hugging his chest to Heero's.

Maddy pulled Quatre to the side and spoke softly to him. "The sedative should wear off in approximately twenty-three minutes. I'm gong to be right outside the door. You come get me if there is _any _change before then. I mean, if his eyelid flutters, his finger twitches, _anything_, you come and get me."

"Okay," Quatre agreed.

Maddy nodded her head once and walked out of the room, closing the door softly as she went.

Quatre looked at the bed where his brothers and Naiyama lay. _Now how am I going to fit on there?_

Chang wasn't too hard to find. He was at the first place Daemon, Duo, and Trowa looked, which was, predictably, the library. It _was_ hard, though, to drag him away from his studies. It took them ten minutes of convincing—and that was after they'd mentioned it was about Heero's health.

That was nothing compared to getting into the Infirmary. Even using all his charm, wit, and sneakiness, Daemon hadn't been able to get past the guard stationed at the entrance. She said her name was Claudia and she was re-stocking Madam Pomfrey's stores, but Daemon had dubbed her Miss Fort Knox, unholy gatekeeper to his ex-brother's well-being.

"Come o-on," Daemon whined,. "Let us i-in." He was reduced to this, humiliating himself for a glimpse of Heero.

"No," the short, dark-haired woman (who had already taken all four of their wands—twice) said. "Family only."

"But we _are_ family," Duo protested from beside Daemon. He hadn't quite lowered himself to Daemon's level yet, but it was only a matter of time.

"Yes!" Daemon said. "We're, um, cousins of—" (Daemon leaned down to whisper to Chang "Who did you say was your keeper? The one who got hurt?) "Michael."

"Yes," Duo cut in. "We're terribly worried. After all, he's supposed to be in the game tomorrow."

Claudia looked at them suspiciously. "Why are you so worried about him playing? Aren't you in Slytherin?"

Daemon moved to cover the Slytherin badge on his robe, before realizing it was useless. "Yes...but they're playing Gryffindor tomorrow. The lesser of two evils."

"Okay, then," Claudia said, giving in. "But only two at a time. And be quiet! I don't want you waking the other patients."

Daemon nodded his head, quickly agreeing. Claudia opened the door a bit, and Daemon squeezed in, not caring who was behind him.

Maddy sat just outside of Heero's room, once again reading her book. She listened with one ear for any trouble in the other room. Before coming out, she'd taken a sample of the magic literally oozing from Heero's pores. The sample was currently being run through three different types of wizard machines.

The first one, called merely Identi-Mage, identified and catalogued al the various types of magic in a sample. It was usually used in testing the air after a magic spill, usually after a very strong wizard's duel. The results were even in a simple-to-read pie chart with each type and the percentage of each type.

The second machine, called the Compare-A-Wiz, was usually used for comparing and identifying compatibility/incompatibility between the magics of two different wizards. It w usually used to determine which type of marriage bond should be used during a wedding. Now, though, Maddy was using it t compare the compatibility among the magics the Indenti-Mage identified.

The third machine, called a Predict It!, gave a list of all the possible outcomes which could happen based on the particular magics and their compatabilities.

Based on the results of all three machines (but especially the last one), Maddy could be reasonably prepared for whatever Heero might go through in the next few weeks. The magic sample was currently in the Compare-A-Wiz, and Maddy expected it to be in there for a little bit longer. The results from the Identi-Mage were pretty much what Maddy expected. Centaur magic in the least amount, then werewolf (some of it inextricably linked with wizard magic, which meant some of the donors had been born human, and then turned). There was a little bit more vampire magic, and the other various magics kept increasing in volume, hippocampus, merrow, Siren, pixie, thestral, Veela, wood nymph, and finally Vanuli magic in astounding quantities.

After Maddy added up all the numbers, she wouldn't have been surprised about the fire Heero made any more than if he were a match with a complementary barrel of gasoline. Even if all the types of magic were compatible (which was highly unlikely, given the number of and differences in the magics), Maddy would have been more surprised if Heero didn't have some sort of reaction. Maddy would have to wait until she saw the results of the other two machines, but Maddy's preliminary diagnosis was that Heero simply had so much magice in him that, while not toxic, was dangerous. Her recommendation would be to surgically—or magically, if possible—remove as much of the non-Vanuli magic as possible.

Maddy put down her book—luckily not at a steamy part—as the Compare-A-Wiz started the chugging and clanking that meant it was done. She picked up the results and started flipping through the pages. Right on the first page, she started seeing very bad things.

The vampire, Siren, and Veela magics were similar in that they attracted humans, wizard and Muggle alike, by a type of magic similar to Imperius. They drew people to them. But whereas vampires and Sirens used their magic as a food gathering source, Veelas used it to draw potential mates, much as male birds used their bright plumage to draw females. The Imperius-type magic was completely opposite that of wood nymph and thestral magic, both of which had a type of Notice-Me-Not spells on them, except when it came to certain types of people—those who have seen death for the thestrals, and nature-loving tree-huggers for the nymphs. And those were the _easy _to compare magics.

Maddy sighed and fed the sample magic and results page into the Predict It! She hoped the results of that were easier to understand, so she could figure out how to plan the surgery, or even if there needed to be one.

As Maddy fed the last of the twelve page document into the machine, she saw a flash of black out of the corner of her eye. Turning her head, she saw that two boys were about to open the door to Heero's room.

"Hey!" she called out, half-jogging to them. "You can't go in there."

_Honestly,_ she thought. _I turn my back for one minute!_

"Oh, shit," Daemon said, his hand on the door. The Healer's heels clicked on the stone as she ran over to them. "She's caught us."

"Not yet, she hasn't," Duo said from behind him. "Open the door. Hurry, before she gets here."

"Okay, okay," Daemon said, fumbling to turn the knob. Apparently, he wasn't going fast enough because Duo swatted him away just as the Healer reached them.

She grabbed Duo's hand. "You can't go in there."

Daemon looked to Duo. His left eye was twitching, just a little bit, but after sharing a dorm for over a year, it was easier to pick up on these little idiosyncracies. Duo was royally pissed off. He looked at the woman, grabbed her hand, and peeled it off his.

"Yes, I can," Duo said, calmly, quietly. He turned the knob and opened the door.

Quatre was awake, watching his sleeping family. He hadn't been able to figure out how to get in the bed without disturbing the others and waking them up, so he had settled for sitting beside them, his arm patting Harry's head. He used a little trick Dorothy taught him and was levitating a couple of feet over the chair under him.

It was a different, but not unpleasant sensation, to be sitting on air and magic, but it was fun for him. Quatre so rarely used his magic for something so frivolous as levitation. He spent his time and energy making good, practical potions, rather than flittering it all away on charms and transfigurations. Especially transfigurations.

Quatre shuddered at the memory of his first—and last—attempt to change his body, like Heero did as a matter of routine. The experience had been, not just unpleasant, but bone-crushingly, mind-numbingly, "scream you lungs out until you can't scream anymore, then scream again" horrifying. Quatre had been stuck for hours in the transfigurations before Dorothy and Heero had been able to help him back. After that, Quatre had decided to never, ever transfigure himself again.

Harry stirred in his sleep, and Quatre froze. He looked down at his brothers, trying to figure out if Heero had moved, too. Surely, it must be time for the potion to wear off. It felt like he'd been watching over them for _hours._

The door creaked, and Quatre jumped. _It must be Maddy_, he thought. Quatre floated down to sit securely in the chair and waited for his sister to enter. He sat there for several seconds, as the knob turned several times, but the door never opened. Somewhat fed-up (and curious as to why Maddy didn't just open the door), Quatre walked to the door.

As he approached the door, he heard voices. Two males, arguing with each other. Quatre couldn't make out their exact words, but their tones sounded angry. A female joined them, and Quatre recognized it as his sister's.

The door creaked again, and Quatre took a big step back. The door swung inward, and he didn't want to get hit by it. The door opened, and the person behind it stepped in.

Heero was warm and cozy. Not like earlier, when he thought he was on fire. No, he felt more like he was in bed and his entire family was around him, all piled together—over or under the covers, it didn't matter because their bodies generated enough heat to keep them warm. Heero felt like he had after figuring out who Quatre was. So happy and loved and free to love back.

An arm hugged Heero from behind, and one hugged from the front. A head lay on his shoulder, and hair fell over onto his nose, tickling him. A chin lay on his forehead, a knee over his thigh.

The air smelled of butterscotch and lemon drops, summer days and winter nights. The air smelled like family and home and love and trust. Like Harry and Dorothy and Quatre.

Heero took in all these feeling and scents and sounds (he could hear so much! Breath hot in his ear, the beep-blip-bloop of a something or other, the hushed whispers of visitors), all dozens of times better just because he was aware of them, and he was aware that he was aware of them. Heero knew it was time to wake up, for good, and go face the world again.

Heero took a deep breath. This was going to be hard. With all of his strength and energy and magic, Heero keyed himself up.

He woke up and opened his eyes and the first person he saw was

"Duo."

Selune


	30. Vanuli Parties

Disclaimer: I do not own any things Harry Potter—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to the wonderful J. K. Rowling and whomever else she decides. I do not own anything Gundam Wing—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to (I think) Bandai and Sunrise.

Spoilers: This fic contains spoilers for books 1-5 of Harry Potter and all of the episodes of Gundam Wing. This fic does not include Endless Waltz.

Rating: R

Pairings: Neville/Harry, 2x1

Summary: Two years ago, the One Year War ended. At this time, the five heroes—the Gundam pilots—disappeared from the Muggle world. Three of them—pilots 02, 03, and 05—reappeared shortly after in the Wizarding world, as students at Hogwarts School of Witchraft and Wizardry. Now, twenty months after the fact, Heero Yuy and Quatre Winner are coming to Hogwarts, and they're bringing all of their secrets with them. The world—especially one Harry Potter—will never be the same.

Peace, Love, and Family:

The Story of the Vanuli Three

Chapter 29: Vanuli Parties

"You came," Heero said, looking straight at Duo. Heero vaguely remembered dreaming about Duo while he was unconscious. Duo saying that he loved Heero and wanted to be with him again, and other things like that. _Maybe they weren't dreams_, Heero thought. _Maybe he really said it._

"Can Duo and I have a few minutes alone?" Heero asked no one in particular. Heero _needed_ to know as soon as possible. Was there a chance for him and Duo?

"I really would like to check you over first," Maddy said from the doorway. She must have come in after Daemon, who was standing flush against the wall, seemingly trying to disappear.

"Please?" Heero asked. "Just for a few minutes.

Maddy frowned. "Okay, but only for five minutes, Heero Yuy." She pointed her finger at him. "Don't even think about escaping. I'll be right outside the door."

Maddy herded the others out (including the bleary-eyed and protesting Dorothy), and Heero felt a great weight lift off his shoulders. He arranged the pillows behind him and sank into them, halfway sitting up.

"Hell, Duo," Heero said, a little nervously. Heero couldn't remember how long it had been since he was last alone with Duo. "So, how have you been?" Heero played with the fringe on his blanket. He was never really good at small talk, and he knew it showed.

Duo didn't answer him. He just stood there, staring intensely at Heero. Heero squirmed under his gaze (_Maybe this was a bad idea._) and looked away.

Heero didn't see Duo cross the room, but it took him less than three seconds to do so. Duo sat on Heero's bed, next to his thighs, and laid one hand on Heero's, stopping its fumbling movements. With his other hand, Duo cupped Heero's chin and made Heero look at him. Duo's eyes (_so beautiful_) locked on Heero's as he moved in for the kill.

Duo's lips were on Heero's, and Duo's tongue was fighting with Heero's, and Duo's hand was on Heero's chin with the other one on his thigh, and Heero's hands were wrapped around Duo's arms, keeping himself steady, and then it was over, and they were apart from each other, and Heero was panting, and Duo was hugging him, and it was so warm and loving and perfect, and Heero wished it would never end.

Heero buried his head in Duo's shoulder and latched his arms around Duo's waist, determined to never let him go. Duo latched his own arms around Heero, moving his hands in comforting circles around Heero's back. Duo was muttering something, but Heero didn't pay too much attention to it, instead choosing to take in the sights, smells, and sounds that made up Duo Maxwell.

Maddy opened the door as soon as her watch told her five minutes had passed. She told Heero five minutes, and five minutes was all he was going to get, thankyouverymuch.

Heero and that Slytherin boy, Maxwell, were curled up practically in each other's laps, Maxwell declaring his undying love for Heero. It didn't surprise her, really, since Maxwell had been "sneaking" into Heero's room almost every night for the past two weeks. Maddy never had really agreed with Madam Pomfrey's visiting policy, so she usually didn't stop anyone—only if they were friendlies, of course—trying to visit Heero, no matter the time of day. Of course, her relaxed visiting policy did not extend to include the first few minutes after her comatose patient had woken up.

Maddy cleared her throat—loud enough to wake some of the most heavy-sleeping people in the world, her sisters Danielle and Aruba—and the two broke apart. "Okay," Maddy said, wheeling in a cart of goodies. "Mr. Maxwell, if you will just step outside for a moment, Heero and I can get started."

"I'm not going anywhere," Maxwell said, scooting back over to Heero.

"Mr. Maxwell, I simply cannot allow you to remain while—"

"I'm staying and that's final."

"Mr. Maxwell, if you think—"

"It's okay, Maddy," Heero said. "I don't mind if Duo stays."

"Fine!" Maddy huffed, throwing up her arms. She pointed to a chair in the corner of the room. "Mr. Maxwell, you can sit over there."

"But—"

"No 'buts,' " Maddy said sternly. "If you are going to remain in this room, you will follow _my_ rules. Is that understood?"

"Perfectly," Maxwell said through clenched teeth, but he sat where she told him to.

"Good." Maddy turned back to Heero and gave him a once-over. He didn't look too bad, a little emaciated from having an I.V. instead of actual food for two weeks, and he had bags under his eyes, but otherwise, he was fine. "Sit up," Maddy commanded, then she helped him into a fully upright position. She went through all the standard Muggle procedures first: checking his ears and throat, listening to his heart and lungs, taking his blood pressure, and finally gently removing the I.V. drip.

"So far you check out fine," Maddy said after putting away her Muggle devices. Heero relaxed slightly, and she grimaced as she got out her next instrument. It was a circular, hand-held device, silver in color, and it emitted a faint whirring sound when in use. It was used to detect where magic was distributed in a body, so a Healer could unblock clogged magic. It was called, simply, a Magic Detector.

Maddy had used it on Heero before during the Muggle war, and she knew that Heero had some rationally irrational fears about it.

_Quatre had just killed Trowa—_or so they thought at the time—_and had injured Heero. Quatre was tore up at the thought that he had killed someone he could have loved but even more so at the thought of hurting Heero, when he'd just come to terms about being brothers with him. Luckily, Quatre thought the injuries Heero sustained were worse than they actually were and dragged Heero to Maddy's office in Sank. Heero's injuries were small—a sprained wrist and a bruised back, both easily treatable by a Healer of Maddy's caliber—but it was in her office, with the use of the Magic Detector, that she'd discovered Heero's real problem._

_It would be terribly difficult for her to give Heero the grave news, so she cowardly passed it on to Quatre, as his next of kin, to give to Heero. To know Heero was to love him, and she couldn't ever give him such horribly bad news. Maddy thought Quatre, as Heero's brother, could break the news better. He would know just how to tell it, so Heero wouldn't feel so hopeless. _

Maddy still remembered that day; it was imprinted in her mind the same way the ink of a newspaper imprints on the skin when slept on.

_"Heero," Quatre said from the living room. They were staying with Maddy for a few days, until they figured out where to go. "I think you need to sit down for this."_

_Heero looked over at Quatre. He was at his laptop, as usual. If she hadn't seen him away from it—in her examining room, downstairs—Maddy would swear he was physically attached to it._

_"I am sitting down," Heero said in the monotone that was his staple during those days. Maddy felt her heart go out to him, a child who had to grow up much too soon._

_"I mean, you should come over here and sit." Quatre patted the couch cushion beside him. Another child-soldier. "It's important."_

_Heero nodded and left his laptop, not bothering to shut it down. He sat beside Quatre and said nothing, staring unblinkingly until Quatre spoke again._

_Quatre took Heero's right hand in both of his. "I have some good news and some bad news." Quatre squeezed Heero's hand and took a deep breath. "Maddy had discovered how Dr. J has been stealing your magic all these years."_

_Maddy had done every sort of test on Heero that she could think of, but it was the Magic Detector that gave her her first big clue._

_"The bad news, and there's a lot of it," Quatre continued, "is that, first, Maddy doesn't know how to reverse it; second, it's grafted to your bones, which it why Maddy can't get it out, and it probably explains why you're so strong; third, whenever you get a surge of magic from an outside source, it makes _your_ magic pool in several key areas of your body; and four, if these pools of magic aren't periodically released—like venting gas, I suspect—then the magic will get backed up and sort of...explode."_

_Heero's face didn't change the entire time Quatre was talking. "What are these things that J put inside of me made of?" Heero asked._

_"Gundanium," Maddy answered from the kitchenette, where she was washing the dinner dishes. She hesitated before continuing. "It has special properties that makes it ideal for this type of use. For the harvester, anyway. The donor, of course, isn't exactly safe."_

_"Gundanium draws magic like a sponge," Heero said, sounding like he was reading from a text, "but it also regularly purges the magic before soaking it up again. If a wizard were to touch the alloy during the surge of magic, and then pull back before the Gundanium began soaking up the magic again, the wizard could, theoretically, obtain all of the magic contained in the metal._

_"That's what saved me after self-destructing. I was healed by the magic in Heavyarms. Apparently, if what the two of you say is true, that magic is contributing my condition."_

_He sounded like he was talking about the weather, but Maddy could see, even from the kitchenette, that his eyes were shiny. A second later, it was gone, and she wondered if it had been a reflection from one of the lamps._

_"I'm dying, aren't I?" It was directed to her._

_"Yes."_

_"How long do I have?" he asked._

_"Six months to a year, if left untreated," she said. "Possibly longer if you live a completely Muggle life, with no contact with magic. Less, if you have regular contact." She walked into the living room and sat on the ottoman in front of the couch. "Not too long before the end, you'll start losing muscle control, maybe have a few seizures. You'll become very weak, and you may even have some memory loss. Permanent blindness is also a concern." Maddy looked away from him. "Even if, by some miracle, you find somebody who can remove the wards, you'll never get your strength back. I estimate about a ten percent bone loss, and that's if nothing goes wrong. If it does, though, there could be major spinal damage. You could end of paraplegic, quadriplegic. It could even kill you."_

_"A case of 'damned if you do/damned if you don't,' then," Heero said, a small smirk playing across his lips. "I guess I can live with that, for now."_

Maddy hadn't been told what they were going to tell the other pilots about Heero's health problem, but she knew what he was going to do about it, so he could pilot his Gundam until the end of the war. Before Heero and Quatre left her place, to go to Relena Peacecraft's school, Maddy gave Heero several heavy-duty painkillers, including morphine. That, coupled with stimulants, was what got him through the rest of the war.

Later, after the war, when she was fixing up all five pilots and everyone else who survived on their side, she learned that Quatre and Heero never mentioned Heero's condition to the other pilots. Apparently, it was Heero's idea—he didn't want their pity. She also learned that Heero didn't have the strength to get out of bed in the morning unless he took his drugs. Maddy had been horrified to learn that, sometimes, Heero couldn't feel his entire left side. His body was atrophied, and she'd given him mere weeks to live, if he wasn't treated soon. When Heero and Quatre left in the middle of the night, Maddy had had no doubt as to where they were going or what they were doing.

"Okay, Heero," Maddy said, finishing her examination. "You are as healthy as can be expected."

"Great. Can I go, then?"

"Not just yet," Maddy rummaged through the cart, finally pulling out a vial and a red pill. "Take these first." Heero was in no shape to be taking care of his werewolves, either tonight or tomorrow night. Luckily, Maddy had enough contracts to get 100 bottles of Wolfsbane potion and more than enough bottles of _Cassus libinus_.

Heero took the medicine, and Maddy smiled at him.

"Good boy," Maddy said. "I expect you to come see me every other day at 9 o'clock sharp, and come sooner if you have the faintest twinge of pain. Or anything else. Maddy handed him his clothes (also pulled from the cart). "Now put these on, and you can leave."

Dorothy jumped when Madrigal came out of Heero's room. "How is he?" she demanded, crossing her arms.

"He seems fine," Maddy said in her most doctorly voice. She leaned against the door, her hands covering the doorknob. "I'm letting him leave the Infirmary tonight."

"Why so soon?" one of Heero's sisters asked. Dorothy wasn't sure which one it was because she'd never bothered to learn their names.

"Madrigal must have a good reason," Dorothy snapped, effectively shutting up the noblewoman. Dorothy smirked and turned back to Maddy. "So? What's your reason?"

"He's been in the Hospital Wing for a fortnight," Maddy began, "and even if he doesn't remember it, his body does. Lying down for two weeks straight isn't good for anyone. He needs to start working those muscles again, expend some of that excess magic."

"Well, what about that?" Quatre asked to the right of Dorothy. "What are the odds of something like that fire happening again? And what are we supposed to do if it does?"

Maddy stepped away from the door. "I'm going to continue operating my practice out of the Hospital Wing. I will be here less, but when I'm away, I'll be at my office treating my other patients. In the case of an emergency, I'll only be a Floo away."

"So, what's the probability of Heero accidentally setting off the sprinkler system?" Harry asked. Many of the people around Dorothy did not get the joke.

Dorothy narrowed her eyes. Maddy had skipped that question.

"Well," Maddy said, biting her lower lip. "It's very unlikely that Heero will cause another freak fire like before."

Dorothy—and everyone around her—breathed a sigh of relief. That group of fires had been impossible to put out.

"However, it is highly likely that at least one of these things," Maddy brought out a piece of parchment that rolled down to the floor, "will happen over the next four weeks, which is the time hypothesized when most of the foreign magic in Heero's system will be purged and when Heero's own magic will be back at full strength."

"So the good news is that Heero's alive and relatively well," the same sister from before said, "but the bad news is that he could, inadvertently, kill, maim, or otherwise damage someone or something until all of his current magic—exempting, of course, what he's gained back of his own—is used up."

"Pretty much."

Dorothy didn't know whether to smile or frown. After all, Heero was okay. But he might blow up at any second. Normally, Dorothy wouldn't mind (after all, she had enough bubble wrap and duct tape to put him back together), and Mother knew Dorothy didn't care if Heero hurt any of his fellow Gryffindors, but it plagued her thoughts that Heero could be dangerous to her other Niamos, and that just wasn't acceptable.

Dorothy was still musing on this when that same, _infernal_ girl spoke up again. "You guys know what this means, don't you?" she asked. Without waiting for an answer she screamed (and was subsequently shushed), "This calls for a party!"

Heero and Duo sat in the hospital room, neither saying anything. Heero knew why he was silent—he was contemplating what and how much exactly to tell Duo. Should he tell Duo everything, starting with his first meeting with his mother and go on from there? Was that too much information to throw at Duo all at once? Should Heero tell what he and the others were going to reveal at Halloween?

"Duo, I know—" Heero began. He looked down at the blanket on the bed and began messing with it again. "I know that I have a lot to make up for and a lot of explaining to do."

Duo took Heero's chin in his hand and forced Heero to look at him. "None of that matters now," he said. "When I saw you, bleeding—dying—on the floor of the Great Hall, I realized what I've been denying since you came to Hogwarts. No, what I've been denying since you walked away form me."

"I'm sorry, Duo," Heero said. He'd put Duo through so much pain.

"Don't be sorry. It doesn't matter anymore. We're here, and we're together. And I—I love you. That's all that matters."

Heero screwed his eyes shut and pinched his thigh. Hard. Surely something this good couldn't be happening to him. It must be another dream.

"Ouch," Heero whispered. He'd pinched almost hard enough to draw blood, and it probably would have been more than hard enough had he been wearing a hospital gown instead of his own thick pants.

"This is real, isn't it?" Heero asked, still not quite ready to get his hopes up. "You're really here? You really want me back?"

"More than anything," Duo said.

Heero angled his head slightly to the right, and Duo angled his to Heero's left, just like they always used to kiss. It was amazing what little details one could remember about his lover.

Heero closed his eyes in anticipation—this time, he would be ready!—and his breath hitched. He could feel Duo's breath—hot and moist and smelling of chocolate—growing steadily closer. Heero fought to close that last little bit of a distance. Almost there, now. Just a few more inches—

The door banged open, and with it, all the sexual tension (okay, maybe not _all_, but a good deal of it) dissipated. For the moment. Heero and Duo jumped apart faster than two teenagers afraid of being caught making out by their parents. Which wasn't too far from the truth, as Dorothy was no doubt somewhere in the crowd assembled in the Infirmary.

"C'mon, Eemy," Allegara, the offending girl who'd broken up his chance at a quick session of "kiss and make up" said. "You have to come to your impromptu "Back to the Land of the Living" celebration in that great big room on the first floor."

Heero whimpered and clutched Duo's hand as his sister threw a garland on his head.

The party had been going on for hours, and tons of students (mostly from Gryffindor and Slytherin) joined in on the fun. After all, it was Friday night (which meant astronomy or the Gryffindor and Ravenclaw seventh years, excep most of the Gryffindors had dropped it in late September), and there were no classes tomorrow, and even if there was, who would pass up the chance to go to a party largely thrown by a people known for their wildly decadent parties, for the sake of being awake and aware for their classes the next morning? Besides Hermione Granger, anyway.

Heero had stayed by Duo's side the entire time—garland still firmly in place—and politely declined all attempts to get him to join in the festivities. If it really was his party (which he doubted, seeing as his siblings were the type of people to throw a party about getting a window fixed which had been broken at the last party. Literally. It happened in April.), he reasoned he could do what he liked. And what he liked was to hang on Duo's arm and follow him around like a simpleton for the rest of the night. Heero would stop, if Duo seemed to dislike the attention, but as he firmly held Heero's arms in place with his other hand, Heero didn't think that was the case.

"Come on, Heero," Harry pleaded for the fifth time. "Just play _one_, and neither I nor anyone else will bug you for the rest of the night."

"A how are you going to pull that off?" Heero asked. He trusted Harry to keep his word, and his promise made Heero terribly curious to find out as to how he would accomplish it.

"With my natural charm, grace, beauty," Harry fluttered his eyelashes at Heero, "and a particularly vicious Dorothy to finish them off it they don't bow to my will."

Heero laughed. "Going to get Dorothy to do your dirty work for you, then?"

Harry straightened up to his full height—which was exactly that of Heero, and but still considerably shorter than Duo—and said, in a haughty voice, "Of course."

"How very Slytherin of you," Duo commented.

Harry winked at Heero, and he had to fight back a laugh. Harry had told him about almost being placed in Slytherin the same night Heero revealed the same thing about himself and Hufflepuff.

"More than you know, Maxwell," Harry said. He turned his full attention on Heero, his lower lip protruding in what Heero knew would soon become an all-out pout, and which both brothers knew Heero could not resist. "So, one game?"

"All right, all right," Heero caved. He unlinked his arm with Duo's, reached up to kiss him on the cheek, and whispered, "I won't be long. You stay here, and I'll be back in twenty minutes. Tops." To Harry, he said, "Only a short game, though, and a friendly one at that! We don't want any innocent bystanders being trampled because of us."

"Done!" Harry agreed, and he dragged Heero over to where their mother was a few minutes ago, describing the Game to several interested Ravenclaws. "Huh," he said when she was nowhere in sight. "I wonder where she went."

"She went to go find one of those, what do you call thems?" Morgan the 8th said from behind the brothers. "Loos?"

Leaving the brothers, Morgan called her siblings over to her, taking over as leader of the Games. As she went over the rules (and adding that, this time, as it was a demonstration for the interested students, cheating was discouraged. Which meant "staying inside the boundaries, Nelat."), Heero sidled up next to Harry, getting ready to jump as the Vahir was released.

Daemon stood in one of the few shadowed places in the Great Hall, watching Heero. He knew he should give up ever having a chance to talk to him privately and that he should probably leave because Heero was fine, but he still stood the like a rock, watching Heero's obvious joy at being with Maxwell and his friends and family, at just being alive.

When Heero finally agreed to play some sort of game with his family, Daemon was surprised. Not just that Heero actually let go of his deathgrip on Maxwell, but also because of the complete change in Heero's stance. He went from utterly relaxed and carefree one minute, to a cat licking is lips before pouncing on an innocent, unsuspecting baby bird. Daemon knew Vanuli to be especially competitive (from the book Vanuli and You: How _Not_ to be Offensive), but seeing it in full force like that was a little nerve-wracking.

The game itself was very interesting, especially since hurting other competitors seemed not an unfortunate consequence but necessity to the game. It only lasted about fifteen minutes, as it was just a demonstration, after all, so the _humans _could see what Vanuli did in their leisure time—but Daemon figured he knew the game reasonably well.

Harry Potter, and Heero, since they were partners, won the game by tackling a frail-looking older woman to the ground and running from the other players with Quidditch-honed reflexes for the next thirty seconds. As soon as the cheering and booing died down from their victory, and after all the sherbert lemons were tucked safely away in robe pockets, they started a new game, one that would be played as viscously and as drawn out as usual.

As the Vanuli left the Great Hall—playing "follow the Potter"—Daemon looked around to find that he'd lost Heero.

Heero wiped the sweat from his brow. The shorter Games were usually more intense because of their compactedness. It caused Heero (and the majority of the other players) to act more viscously, to push, shove, and bite anyone who wasn't on his team away from the Vahir. It was a good Game, and he won, but he was done for now, and would stay that way the rest of the night.

As Heero made his way back to where he'd left Duo, he saw Daemon hiding in the shadows. Smiling, Heero changed his features in a flash, becoming a twenty-something blonde woman in mere seconds. Heero—once more disguised as the beautifully dangerous Annette—made his way over to Daemon.

Heero had been thinking, on and off, about Daemon all night, trying to decide what the outcome of all the things Daemon did to and for Heero would be. Heero had decided, but before he told Daemon, he would make him sweat bit first.

Selune


	31. We Three Kings

Disclaimer: I do not own any things Harry Potter—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to the wonderful J. K. Rowling and whomever else she decides. I do not own anything Gundam Wing—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to (I think) Bandai and Sunrise.

Spoilers: This fic contains spoilers for books 1-5 of Harry Potter and all of the episodes of Gundam Wing. This fic does not include Endless Waltz.

Rating: R

Pairings: Neville/Harry, 2x1

Summary: Two years ago, the One Year War ended. At this time, the five heroes—the Gundam pilots—disappeared from the Muggle world. Three of them—pilots 02, 03, and 05—reappeared shortly after in the Wizarding world, as students at Hogwarts School of Witchraft and Wizardry. Now, twenty months after the fact, Heero Yuy and Quatre Winner are coming to Hogwarts, and they're bringing all of their secrets with them. The world—especially one Harry Potter—will never be the same.

Peace, Love, and Family:

The Story of the Vanuli Three

Chapter 30: We Three Kings

"Run!" Quatre screamed, and Harry hastened to obey.

Harry's brothers and sisters were faster than he'd expected—what with the majority of them having no objection to changing form—and his only defense was to do the unexpected. He'd already led the crowd of Game-playing Vanuli out of the castle, and he was currently running across the flat plain of the grounds of Hogwarts. There was only one way Harry and his team could win the Game, so Harry took it.

His feet barely touching the ground, Harry ran into the Forbidden Forest, his siblings following after.

"Care to dance?" Annette asked, putting her hand on Daemon's shoulder. She smiled as Daemon turned around, anxiously awaiting his response.

"No, I'm sorry. I can't. I'm sort of looking for some—" Daemon got a good look at her, his eyes widening in fear and rememberance, "one."

"Well, I guess you've found her, haven't you?" Annette said. She walked out to the dance floor, and he followed along like a rag doll.

Daemon allowed her to put his hands around her waist. "Heero," he said.

Annette coughed, pointedly.

"Annette," he corrected. "What are you doing?"

"I'm just having a little fun," Annette said, grinning like a cat about to catch a canary. "I figured this would get—and keep—your attention long enough to have a little chat."

"What about?"

Annette leaned in closely tiptoeing to whisper in his ear. "Your past, your present, and your fututre, _brother_."

Quatre finally caught up with Harry—when that boy wanted to, he could run!—and dragged him into the safety of some aptly-placed bushes.

"Hey! What the—!" Harry shouted, before Quatre put a hand on his mouth.

"Shh!" Quatre said.

Harry had lost the Vahir about an hour ago to one of the older sisters, Maykin, and since then, Quatre and his team (which was barely more than a pair, with just himself, Dorothy, Harry, and a brother in his late-twenties, Hakir) had been scouring the Forest, looking for that tell-tale blue light, ready to pounce and take the prize for themselves. Unfortunately, they'd somehow split up, and it was up to Quatre to find his teammates and take them to the most obvious place any noble-born Vanuli would think to go when in unfamiliar terrain: Haven. Luckily—though probably not, the LeFeys orginally settled on what was now Hogwarts ground—an entrance to the Vanuli capital city was only a couple of rivers, a few trees, and a dozen more aptly-placed bushes away.

"What are you doing?" Harry hissed at Quatre.

"Shh!" Quatre whispered. "I have a plan." Quatre made the signal, and Dorothy and Hakir came out of their hiding places.

"Are we ready?" Dorothy asked, in her normal, _loud_ voice, after jumping down from a tree.

"Shh!" Quatre shushed her. Didn't she know that secret, genius plans needed secrecy, quiet, and, well, genius to work?

"Malal, there's no one else around," Hakir said, changing his form from a chameleon—how original—back to his normal humanoid state. Unconscious of his nudity, he joined Quatre and the others in a huddle.

"What's the plan, Oh Great One?" Dorothy said. She never was much fun to play the Game with, always getting bored after only four or five hours of play.

Quatre motioned for the others to huddle in closer, so no eavesdropping changelings could over hear. No one moved an inch. "Oh, fine!" Quatre said, giving up. "The Vahir is most likely to be back in Haven by now. I propose we go in together, Dorothy, Hakir, and I, _ahem_, "persuade" other players to get out of our way, giving Harry—Nelat—a straight shot to the Vahir, winning us the Game. What do you thinkk?"

The other three looked at each other and nodded.

"Okay. Let's do it."

Heero had dragged Daemon out of the Great Hall—after changing back to his normal form and telling Duo that he would be back as soon as he was finished—and into a very familiar room in which he couldn't ever remember being. It was on the same floor as the Great Hall, but it looked more fitted to being an "outside" classroom. It had sort of a centaur feel to it.

"Okay, Heero, you've got me alone now," Daemon said, backing into the classroom. "So why don't you go ahead and hex me, or kill me, or do whatever it is you're goin to do to me, so we can get out of here and get on with our lives."

Heero smiled—not a smirk or a sneer, but a real, honest-to-Mother smile—and advanced on Daemon. "Dae, Dae, Dae," he said. "I don't want to _hurt_ you. I want to _reward_ you." Heero stopped three feet from Daemon and watied for him to process that information.

"Reward me?" Daemon bumped into a chair and flopped onto it. "Why?"

"We had a verbal contract," Heero explained. "You lived up to your part of it, so I'm living up to my part." It was really quite simple.

"What do you mean? What contract?" Daemon looked very confused and bewildered. It probably shouldn't be that unexpected because Heero was sure that Daemon, at least partially, caused the event that led up to him saving Heero.

"Remember 'You want forgiveness? You have to bring me back to life.' Or something along those lines." Daemon's eyes widened, finally comprehending. Heero spun in a full circle, showing off his fully healed body. "Ta-da. I think I look _much_ better alive than dead. What do you think?"

"Well, I, um," Daemon sputtered. "It's my fault you got hurt in the first place."

Heero pulled up a chair in front of Daemon and grabbed his hands. "I know that, and that's why this reward comes with some conditions." Heero tilted Daemon's chin up to meet his eyes. "I offer to you a probationary brothership, set for one month. You will receive all of my knowledge on me, my family, and my species in general. For the entire month, you will be put under a spell that, should you choose to divulge any of what I have to you to or around anyone who is not me, Harry, Quatre, or Dorothy—including any Polyjuiced or otherwise glamoured individuals—your throat will constrict, not only making it impossible for you to speak, but also cutting off your air supply. If you continue your attempt, you will eventually die. If I find your trying to divulge my secrets, helping my enemies, or otherwise displeasing me in an attempt to harm, hurt, or humiliate my family, your brother status shall be stripped, and I will kill you in a most unpleasant manner."

Heero sat back, breaking eye contact with Daemon. "If, at the end of the month, you have given a satisfactory performance, a vote will be held between me and my family about whether or not to make you a full member of the family and a true Vanuli. A unanimous vote is needed. Thereafter, if the vote is in your favor we will begin the long and arduous process of turning you into a full LeFey and a true Vanuli."

"What if I say no?" Daemon asked, no doubt frightened at the aspect of either evolving into a higher species or death at the hands of an angry Heero.

"The same thing that will happen if the vote is not in your favor," Heero said. "I will Obliviate you of this and all other conversations pertaining to this, declare our Life Debts settled, and cut all ties with you." Heero made to get up. "I realize this is a big decision. I'll give you twenty-four hours to decide."

Daemon grabbed Heero's forearm. "No. I know. Now." Heero perched on the end of his chair. "What do I need to do?"

Nodding, Heero conjured a contract—very standard, really—and handed it and a quill pen to him. "Just sign here...here...and here."

"Oh, my god," Harry said upon first sight of Haven. Completely forgetting his objective—namely winning the Game—he began to admire the city.

Haven was the Vanuli capital city, and the only one left populated solely by Vanuli. It was situated in the fairy world, a completely different plane of existence than the human world. Like most myths and legends said, time moved differently in Haven. There were several "pockets" that Harry observed, where time was moving faster or slower relative to his pocket. It was so slow in some pockets that Harry could see every movement the people made. In other pockets, the people were a blur because time was going so fast. Time even ran backwards in some of the pockets! According to Hakir, Vanuli usually went in those to gain back the youth they'd lost in one of the ultra-fast ones.

Harry admired the houses on the dirt street he was on. The were made of what looked like very dense, cut grass, but at the same time, they looked like they were growing up from the ground. None of the houses had doors, only huge frames to let the sun in. The houses were interlocking, so one house seemed to go on and on for miles. Some seemed to be built right on toop of one another. Trees covered practically every spot behind the houses on both sides of the street, blocking out most of the sunlight until they reached their tops, where they almost bent backwards, letting in the light. It was about midnight back at Hogwarts, but the sun beat down on Harry here, as bright as noontime.

The crowning glory of Haven, in Harry's opinion, was the palace. Made entirely of crystal—as Quatre had said—it sparkled with a brilliance of a multi-faceted diamond. It looked like nothing so much as a quartz crystal, made to the scale of Hogwarts. It was beautiful.

"C'mon, Nay, snap out of it," Hakir said, shaking him a bit. "We've got a Vahir to catch."

Harry pulled himself away from looking at the bustling city—which housed approximately one-eigth of the Vanuli population—and put himself to rights. There would be plenty of time for admiring later. Now, he had a Game to win!

Harry spotted a streak of blue in a fast-moving pocket full of party-goers. "Over there!"

Heero finally made his way back to Duo. It was far after the twenty minutes he originally promised, and he hoped Duo wasn't too mad. It had just been too good an opportunity to pass up with Daemon. Which had turned out quite different than Heero's expectations. Daemon rarely did things impulsively, but when he did, he did it with the fervor of a Gryffindor rescuing a damsel in distress.

"Miss me?" Heero asked, sidling up to Duo and linking their arms.

Duo turned away from the girl to whom he was talking—another Slytherin, by her badge, Daphne something-or-other—and gave Heero the full brightness of his thousand kilo-watt smile. "There you are! Did you get everything straightened out?"

"Perfectly," Heero said, standing on his tiptoes to give Duo a peck on the lips. He lowered his voice. "What do you say we get out of here?"

Duo nodded and went about making his platitudes to Daphne. "We'll have to continue this some other time. I'm gonna go with Heero, here."

"I understand," Daphne said, winking, her eyes flashing to Heero, then back to Duo. "I'll just leave you two alone, then." She backed up a few feet, then turned around and walked briskly to a round table literally covered in Slytherin girls.

"She doesn't seem that bad," Heero said, surprised but trying not to show it. He didn't really think about it much, but when he did, he usually bought most of the rumors about Slytherins. How hard-hearted and cold and _evil_ they were. With the exceptions were mostly just for the "evil" part; Dorothy actually confirmed a lot of the stereotypes for him—he thought that was how most of them were.

"Most of us are," Duo said. "Except Malfoy, the ferrety, little brat. If Potter hadn't done what he did to Malfoy, I would have gladly jumped in and cursed him."

"What happened to him?" Heero said, steering Duo towards the door. He could vaguely remember Dorothy telling him something about Harry and Malfoy and St. Mungo's while he was "indisposed," but he couldn't remember much about it. "And where is he?"

"You mean you don't know?"

"Duo, I've been awake for six hours, max, and I've been with you most of the time. I know very little of what has happened these past two weeks."

'Oh. Okay. Well, here's what happened..."

"Ha-huh, ha-huh, ha-huh," Harry laughed, barely able to stand up. He had a glass of Booamyie in his hand and his wrist seemed permanently blue from the dozens of Bellarmees he had eaten. "Tell me more, gorgeous."

Harry was talking to the most _fascinating _person. He was telling Harry all about Quatre and Heero and Dorothy before they met Harry. No one else seemed to want to talk about that time in their lives—not that Harry blamed them, really; he didn't really like talking about that time in his life, either—and he was absolutely hilarious.

"You're cute, you know that?" Balor said, catching Harry when he tripped over his own feet.

"Damn," Harry said. He'd sloshed his Booamyie all out of his cup. "All gone," he said wistfully.

Balor held onto Harry's bicep, keeping him steady. "You've probably had enough, anyway, your Grace."

Balor insisted on calling Harry by his title, even though he and the others were yet to be confirmed as the Crown Princes. If it had been most people, Harry would have been annoyed, but Balor had a way of saying it that made him feel nice. Special. Unique. He hadn't felt that way in awhile. Balor liked Harry because of the way he looked. Not because he was Destined to do Great Things. Not even wholely because he had an immense amount of power—though Balor admitted it was a factor. No, Balor found Harry attractive because he _found Harry attractive_. He wasn't jealous or possessive or intentionally cruel in a play to make Harry want him.

"Did I ever tell you about my boyfriend back home?" Harry asked, playing with the top button on Balor's shirt. He stood in front of his cousin—son of his mother's sister's daughter—forcing him to stop. He looked up into Balor's eyes. "Did I?"

Balor sighed. "Yes, my Prince. Several times." Balor lead Harry to an upraised, very complicated system of roots. Harry sat down, and the roots moved to cradle his butt, making for a very comfortable seat. Balor knelt in front of him, unconscously mirroring Neville's position of a few weeks ago.

"I love him, you know?" Harry said, his eyes tearing up. Damnit! He knew he drank too much. He made for a weepy drunk. "And I keep telling him and telling him and telling him, but he doesn't believe me. He's just so sure that I'm sleeping with Harry and Quatre, but I'm not! And I'm not going to until I absolutely have to. He just.... He doesn't understand."

Balor took Harry's hand in his. "It sounds to me like he doesn't appreciate you. After all, he's just a human. Another Vanuli could understand your situation better than any human never could."

Harry chuckled, letting his legs fall apart. "And _you_ just might be that Vanuli, right?"

Balor shook his head and moved in between Harry's parted legs. "Probably not. I'm ten years older than you, but I've never had as much responsibility as you do. When I'm ready, I'll be able to choose my spouse. Even after I'm married, I'll be able to sleep with other people. As many as my mate and I have agreed upon. You don't have that luxury. You will become our new King. I don't think anyone who's never been in that position can ever really understand it."

"So what do you suggest I do?" Harry asked, looking deep into Balor's eyes. "Fuck my brothers until it's all better? Completely forget about Neville?"

"Of course not," Balor's hands moved from Harry's hands to his thighs. "I suggest that you prove to this human that you love him, and you will contine to love him for as long as you are a prince. He can either accept what you are able to give him, or he can lose what little time the two of you have left." Balor gently took hold of Hary's chin and pulled him down to mere few inches from Balor's face. "But first, I suggest you prove it to yourself."

Balor kissed Harry. Innocently at first, lips pressing against lips. Slowly, they built up their passion, Balor's tongue seeking entrance into Harry's mouth, Harry sucking in Balor's tongue. Harry clung to Balor's back, and Balor snaked his arms around Harry's waist. The kiss was nice—very, _very _nice—but Harry couldn't help thinking about Neville, feeling guilty for this.

Harry pulled back from the kiss. "Stop. Stop."

Balor pulled away from Harry, smiling dreamily. "Do you have your answers, now?"

Harry nodded. "I have to let him go. I'm only going to hurt him in the end. It's better to do it now, before he falls in love with me."

"Your Grace, I don't see how he can't already be in love with you."

Heero played with the hem of his robe, waiting for Duo to say the password. He'd never seen the Slytherin dorms, but that wasn't what he was worried about. Actually, he couldn't care less about the appearance of anything at the moment. Not himself, not Duo, and definitely not the immediate surroundings.

"Stop chewing your lips, babe," Duo said, rubbing his thumb over Heero's lips. "They'll get chapped."

The wall swung open, and Heero followed Duo passed the Common Room, down to the Seventh years' dorms. Because there were so many Seventh year boy Slytherins, they had two dorms, four in each room. Duo, Trowa, Daemon, and Zabini were in a room, and Malfoy, Crabbe, Goyle, and Nott were in the other.

Duo led Heero to his bed, and they both sat down. Heero immediately began playing with the fringe on one of Duo's pillows, refusing to look at him.

Duo grabbed the pillow from Heero's hand and threw it on the floor. He moved his face to look up at Heero, smiling at him. "It can't be _that _bad, can it? After all, what can be wrong now that we're finally back together?"

Heero took a deep breath. "A lot, actually," he said. "More than you can imagine."

"Well, why don't you tell me, and I can decide for myself?" Duo said. "Just start with the beginning and tell it all from there."

Heero nodded. Duo leaned against the headboard of the bed, legs splayed out. Heero took that s an invitation, curling up between his legs, his head on Duo's chest. "The beginning, for me, was when I was seven and my mentor took me with him on a mission, but the real story begins much earlier than that..."

Harry raced back to Hogwarts from the Forbidden Forest. He tried not to fall down, but even with a Sobering Potion, he was still a bit drunk. After talking with Balor—and that guitily pleasurable kiss—Harry hadn't been able to stand it anymore. He'd left Haven, miraculously using the correct exit on the first try, calling out to Balor to tell Quatre and Dorothy where he was. He didn't even spare a thought to hope Balor _knew_ who "Quatre" and "Dorothy" were, or if he didn't, that he was smart enough to figure it out.

Harry ran into the Great Hall, his eyes meticulously searching for his boyfriend. Seeing him talking to Ron, whose arm was around Hermione—when did _that_ happen?—Harry took off at a fast trot over to them.

Harry grabbed Neville from behind, quickly turned him around, and proceeded to give Neville the kiss of both their lives. Harry might not have Heero's Gift, but it was only a matter of moments, before both their knees weakened.

Neville broke away from the kiss. "H-Harry? What do—"

Harry pressed his fingers against Neville's lips. "Shh. Don't talk; just feel. There's time for talking tomorrow."

Neville nodded, and Harry smiled. Taking Neville's hand, Harry led him away from their shocked friends, out of the Great Hal, in the direction of the Room of Requirement.

"That doesn't sound so bad," Duo said. "It's all in the past. It can't hurt us now."

Heero had almost finished telling Duo about himself—Duo interjecting every once in a while to tell his side of the story. The only things that seemed to upset Duo was everything about Dr. J, Heero's father, and Heero not telling Duo about his wards. He didn't seem too worried about Heero's prophecy—something about Heero being Heero, invincible.

"That's not all," Heero said. He desperately didn't want to tell Duo this, but he made to promise to himself—and Duo—that he wouldn't leave anything out. Heero knew Duo sensed his hesitation. "Harry, Quatre, and I are triplets."

Duo leaned back. "So? So are the McGees in Ravenclaw."

"There's never been Vanuli triplets before."

"There's a first time for everything."

"No. We're special."

"You've always been special."

"No, Duo. Not like that!" Heero sighed. "Please, just listen.

"We are the three most powerful Vanuli in existence. No—Duo, I mean it. Listen. It is Vanuli law that the most powerful adult Vanuli is to be the monarch. Only one ruling monarch is allowed at a time. When the first twins were born, the Queen and the Heads of House had to devise a way for them to rule together. What they eventually came up with is a process called Fusion.

"Fusion is a process wherein the minds, hearts, souls, life essences, _everything_ about the participating persons combine—except for their physical bodies—leaving them, in essence, one person. Their thoughts are the same. Their feelings are the same. After the binding spell, their bodies even look the same as the other's. They are, literally, one person in two bodies."

"What's this have to do with you?" Duo asked, tensing.

"Don't play stupid, Duo. It doesn't fit you, anymore," Heero said, turning to look at Duo. "We will Fuse, and we will fuck, and I will be no more."

Duo tightened his hold around Heero's waist. Voice thick, he asked, "How long do we have until I lose you again?"

"March 15th."

"Then, I guess we've got a lot to do together, and not much time in which to do it."

Heero kissed Duo, slowly, sensuously. "And a lot of lost time to make up for."

Neville closed the door behind them and turned to look at Harry. Harry pretended not to notice, instead taking in the large bed—and bathrroom—the room had made for them, blushing slightly at the number and variety of toys that came along with it.

"Okay, Harry, what's going on?" Neville asked.

"Isn't it obvious?" Harry turned to him. "I want to prove my love for you by giving you something I can't ever take back. My virginity." Harry looked up at Neville with hooded eyelids. "Make love to me, Neville."

Selune


	32. Study Groups and the Hufflepuff

Disclaimer: I do not own any things Harry Potter—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to the wonderful J. K. Rowling and whomever else she decides. I do not own anything Gundam Wing—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to (I think) Bandai and Sunrise.

Spoilers: This fic contains spoilers for books 1-5 of Harry Potter and all of the episodes of Gundam Wing. This fic does not include Endless Waltz.

Rating: R

Pairings: Neville/Harry, 2x1

Summary: Two years ago, the One Year War ended. At this time, the five heroes—the Gundam pilots—disappeared from the Muggle world. Three of them—pilots 02, 03, and 05—reappeared shortly after in the Wizarding world, as students at Hogwarts School of Witchraft and Wizardry. Now, twenty months after the fact, Heero Yuy and Quatre Winner are coming to Hogwarts, and they're bringing all of their secrets with them. The world—especially one Harry Potter—will never be the same.

Peace, Love, and Family:

The Story of the Vanuli Three

Chapter 31: Study Groups and the Hufflepuff

Harry played with his quill, flicking it back and forth, back and forth across his fingers. He was in the library with a study group for the upcoming fall exams. They were coming up in two weeks, and Hermione insisted that Harry study with her and Ron, and Harry made Heero, Quatre, and Dorothy come, and they brought Rosencrantz, Barton, Maxwell, and Wufei Chang, and Chang brought Su Li, Michael Corner, Anthony Goldstein, and Goldstein brought Hannah Abbot (his girlfriend), and Hannah brought Ernie Macmillan and Zacharias Smith. After all those people were invited, Hermione sucked it up and reluctantly invited the rest of the Gryffindor seventh years, of whom only Neville showed up. So what began as an ordinary—at least, in earlier years—Trio study session, soon turned into a monstrous, seventeen-person Study Group O'Doom. With color coordinated graphs.

Hermione's voice—rather, the lack of it when she stopped talking—brought Harry out of his daze. Harry looked up, and people were switching chairs, tables, and books. It took Harry a moment, but he finally figured out that Hermione had ordered them to get into their groups. Frantic, Harry looked at Hermione's charts, trying to figure out to which group he belonged.

"You're with us, Potter," a voice said from behind Harry, tugging on his sleeve. "We're studying Herbology."

Harry blinked and grabbed his books from the table. "I knew that." Harry started to storm away from Smith, but remembered—thankfully, before he made an ass of himself—that he didn't know who the third member of their group was. Even after only a short time, he could grate on Harry's nerves like cheese through a grater. Harry allowed Smith to brush past him and lead the way to the new table.

"Hello, Su," Harry said as he sat down. Harry knew Su Li only in the vein of Quidditch. She'd become Ravenclaw's reserve Seeker last year and had advanced to regular Seeker and Captain since Cho left. "How have you been?"

"Fine," she said, her lips in a tight line. "I would be better if I'd caught the Snitch."

Harry was a bit taken aback. Had Su expected him to let her win? He chewed his lip as he thought of what to say to that.

Su looked up from her book and jumped back in her chair. "Oh, Harry, I didn't mean anything against _you_! It's just that I know I should have been able to catch it. After all, I was closer, and I had a straight shot to it."

Harry nodded, glad that Su wasn't angry with him. She was right, of course. She _should_ have caught the Snitch. Harry was almost halfway across the pitch when he spotted it, and he had to get through the Chasers and Beaters—and Bludgers—in order to get to the Snitch. Sure, it hadn't been hovering behind her ear like the first legendary Potter/Malfoy game, but it was close.

Smith's hand brushed against Harry's side as Smith brushed his hair out of his eyes. "Well, enough Quidditch talk. We really should start studying. Especially since Granger's heading our way."

Harry looked up, quickly. Sure enough, Hermione was bearing down on them. Panicking, Harry opened up his book to a random page and began to read aloud from it.

"The Vine Rose, while similar in appearance to an ordinary rose, is quite different in properties and application. Known to grow only in Great Britain, it is a very rare, very coveted potions ingredient. The Vine Rose can be used as..."

Heero threw his quill down, frustrated beyond belief. "I don't get it," he said. He'd been trying for twenty minutes, and he still wasn't any closer to understanding—much less producing—the counter curse to the Memory Charm. Not to mention, Heero still had two weeks before he got the rest of his magic and was able to purge the conflicting magics he currently had.

The first day Heero had returned to his classes after the coma, he'd been in for a big surprise. Intellectually, he realized that the majority of the magic keeping him alive wasn't his own, but it wasn't until he failed to see anything in his scrying mirror during Divinations, was unable to change only his vocal cords during Care of Magical Creatures, and was unable to imitate Professor Lupin during Defense that Heero truly realized it. His magic was gone.

It had taken Heero a few days—wherein he cursed his family and wailed his plight for all of Gryffindor to hear—before he came to terms with his crippled state. Even though he was still more powerful than his peers, Heero knew he was handicapped compared to his brothers and Dorothy. Once again, he was the weak one.

"It's very simple," Hermione, of whom Heero had become quite fond, said. "All you have to do is point your wand at the victim, like so," Hermione manipulated the angel of his arm and the grip of his wand, "and say _Memeni_. Of course, unlike the _Commenisse Memoria_ potion—which we're going to be learning all about in January—the spell only works if done very quickly after the Memory Charm has been cast, and the caster of the second charm must be stronger than the caster of the first charm."

Heero tried to commit that to memory, but his mind wandered away from it and towards the boy sitting across from him. Hermione had tried to separate boyfriends and girlfriends (and exes) into separate groups, but because there were so many students present and because each of them had unique strengths and weaknesses—not to mention classes—she wasn't able to do so perfectly. Thankfully, though, she was able to keep Harry and Neville in separate groups during all four changes.

"So, are you staying at Hogwarts for Christmas?" Duo asked innocently, while rubbing Heero's calf with his foot.

"For the most part," Heero said, trying not to purr. Duo's foot had hit a sensitive spot, and he kneaded it with his toes. "I have to leave for Yule."

"Why just the one day?" Duo's foot moved higher.

Heero quickly looked down at his book, trying his best to banish the heat slowly creeping up his face. "It's the future king's confirmation. He will become the Crown Prince, then. All must attend."

"Oh." Duo's foot crept into Heero's lap, and he shuddered.

"Oh, get a room!" Daemon said, startling Heero. He'd forgotten there was even a third member to their group, Hermione having long since moved on.

Heero loved it that Daemon was back in his life. For the first twelve years of their lives, they were best friends, brothers even. After Daemon's betrayal, Heero didn't think he would love anyone again. Of course, it didn't help that his conditioning was iron-clad until the Muggle war, when it began to break down, thanks mostly to Daemon, Duo, and Relena.

Heero looked over to Duo. "You wanna?"

Not even answering, Duo tugged Heero's hand and pulled him out of his seat, practically flying out of the library.

Quatre was furiously writing notes. Transfigurations was his worst subject, and even though he probably wouldn't be around to sit his NEWTs in June, he still wanted to do well on his exams. One never knew what he might need in order to defeat two Dark Lords.

The day after the full moon, Quatre and Heero had sent out scouts to roam the land and find the headquarters of Voldemort and Dr. J. Quatre's vampires were to look in the countryside, as Quatre couldn't control their beastly urges like Heero could control his wolves', and Heero's werewolves were to look in the cities. So far, neither group had reported anything back, but it had only been a couple of weeks. If they hadn't found anything by January, the triplets were going to send out more forces, branching out to the continent and maybe even the colonies.

Quatre tried to not worry about his abysmal future, tried to be as happy and carefree as his little brothers seemed to be. Well, except when it came to Neville Longbottom. Harry hadn't really gotten over the breakup yet (he hadn't even told Quatre and Heero what happened), and this caused Heero to believe Neville to be an enemy. It was quite hilarious to see kitty-Heero with raised fur, hissing at Harry's ex-boyfriend.

"Do you mind if I join your group? Mine... Well, they left."

Quatre looked up from his book long enough to see Hannah Abbot shake her head.

"No, we don't mind." She cleared the books off the fourth seat at the table, and Daemon sat down in it, directly opposite Quatre.

"We're on Transfigurations," Michael said once Daemon got settled.

"Good," Daemon replied. "I'm pretty good at that."

Quatre brightened. "Perfect. Perhaps you can help me with this, then." Quatre showed the passage in the book to Daemon. "I don't understand why it's harder to turn a porcupine into a pine cone than a pincushion."

"Well," Daemon began to explain, "it's quite simple, really. All you have to know is..."

Daemon was very nervous about approaching Quatre Winner about anything. Daemon had two weeks left to convince Heero and his family that he was a good person, a worthy person, but he rarely ever had the time to let Catalonia, Potter, or Winner get to know him. Daemon knew, instinctively, that if he got Winner on his side, the others would accept him into their ranks.

Daemon began explaining the theory of Transfigurations about why it was easier to transfigure an object into something that sounded like the object than something that didn't. He scooted his chair closer to Quatre, so he could talk softer and not bother their peers—or bring down the wrath of Madam Pince on him.

Dorothy, unfortunately, got the bad end of the stick. With all of the smart, cunning, brave people in the study group, she got stuck with the stupidest, most brainless of the lot—Neville Longbottom and Ron Weasley. It wasn't that they were bad people or even that they weren't intelligent. It was just that neither of the boys' attention was on the subject at hand. Namely, Potions. No, Longbottom's eyes stayed on Harry, every now and again flickering over to the blonde Hufflepuff Chaser whose name Dorothy didn't know. Weasley, however, just seemed dazed at even the prospect of studying. His eyes glazed over every time Dorothy mentioned anything to do with classes or studying. He'd actually fallen asleep once, which Dorothy, of course, had used to her advantage. She doubted he would ever fall asleep in her presence again.

"Look, we need to _study_," Dorothy said, exasperated. "That's why I came." Actually, that was a bold-faced lie. Dorothy came to keep an eye on her Niamos. She didn't get to see them much anymore—through her own eyes, anyway—what with Harry's Quidditch practices, Heero's nightly appointments with Maddy, Heero's constant clinging to Maxwell, and the triplets extra tutoring sessions with Professor Lupin, trying to figure out how they were going to defeat their "two evils."

"Mm-hm," Longbottom said, not taking his eyes off of Harry. "I quite agree."

"Oh, fine!" Dorothy huffed. She gathered her books and looked for another group to join. Spotting one with a seat free, she headed to it with a hasty, "Good-bye!" thrown back at the two Gryffindors.

Dorothy slid into the empty seat next to Trowa Barton, nodding once to Wufei Chang and another Ravenclaw—Anthony something or other.

"Okay," she said mock-brightly. "What are you boys studying?"

Duo pressed Heero into the wall, hungrily sucking on his neck. Heero grasped and rubbed against Duo, enjoying the feel of lean, strong arms around him and a thick, hard cock pressed against his stomach. Duo broke of Heero, gasping—that was going to leave one big hickey—and attacked Heero's mouth.

Ever since Duo and Heero got back together, they'd been going at it like a couple of newlyweds on Viagra. They were together almost every moment they were outside of class (they had yet to have another "sleep over" after the first night), and they were all over each other almost the entire time they were together.

"Wait, Duo, wait," Heero pulled away from Duo.

"What?" Duo asked, panting and bewildered. "What's wrong?"

"Nothing. Just thought we should actually be _inside _the dorm before we go any further."

Understanding dawned in Duo's eyes, and he backed away from Heero. Grabbing Heero's hand, Duo shouted the password and dragged Heero through the Slytherin Common Room, down to his dorm room. Thankfully, Zabini wasn't in there, and Duo shut and locked the door.

Looking lecherously at Heero, Duo began advancing on his prey. Heero moved, forcing Duo to circle around him. Stalk him. Duo made to pounce on Heero, and Heero jumped out of the way. This game was one of Heero's favorites, so he let it continue for ten minutes before submitting to Duo, letting Duo catch him.

"Gotcha," Duo whispered, straddling Heero on the bed, holding Heero's hands above his head.

"That you did," Heero agreed.

Duo leaned down to give Heero a sloppy kiss, their tongues dancing and dueling with one another. Duo began undoing Heero's robes, but Heero stopped him.

"I have a better idea," Heero said.

"Better than this?" Duo said.

"Much better," Heero said.

Duo let go of Heero, and Heero crawled out from underneath him. Heero went to the door and put a Vanuli locking charm on it. No one was getting in here.

"So what's this wonderful idea?" Duo asked.

Heero turned around, smirking. "Do you have a camera?"

Harry was quite fed up with Neville's staring. Harry hadn't known about it until Su pointed it out, but afterwards, he could barely focus for thinking about it. Neville watched with narrowed eyes which turned to slits when Smith whispered a joke in Harry's ear. Neville's hands clenched when Smith touched Harry on the shoulder or squeezed his arm. Neville went purple when Harry laughed at Smith's joke and patted him on the shoulder.

It was obvious that Neville was jealous, even though be had no right to be. No right at all! He had broken up with Harry, not the other way around. Of course, to be fair, Harry wasn't sure how he would've acted in the same situation. _Hmm, yes, I was wondering if I could have your virginity—as a souvenir, you see—before I leave you high and dry while I go ecstatically fuck my brothers every night for the rest of my life?_ Harry hadn't exactly said it like that, but that was the message Neville received. Then, of course, he broke up with Harry, but not before acquiescing to Harry's request.

The sex had been painful, rough, and awkward. Their teeth mashed together. They didn't use enough lube at first. Neville almost didn't make it to the starting line. Actually, he didn't at first, and they had to wait until he was ready again. All in all, it was nothing like what books and movies made it out to be, but it was a wonderful experience. Harry wouldn't trade it for the world.

Of course, afterwards, they didn't look at it each other as they dressed. They didn't speak as they separately left the Room of Requirement, except to confirm the dissolution of their relationship.

Since that day, the two of them barely said ten words to each other, but Harry could always feel Neville's eye son him. Watching him. If it was anyone but Neviile, Harry would have thought it creepy. Actually, Harry did find it a little creepy.

Harry just wanted the old Neville back. The Neville he fell in love with. The Neville who stuttered and laughed and lost his toad. The Neville who was horrible at Potions until he was out of the dungeons. The Neville who knew the names and properties of every one of the 172 plant species in Greenhouse 4. Harry wanted old Neville to come back and replace the new Neville—the jealous, bitter Neville.

Harry sighed. He didn't think the old Neville would ever return.

"Potter," Smith said. A hand squeezed Harry's shoulder. "Everybody's leaving."

Harry checked his watch. It wasn't time to meet with Remus yet. "I think I'll stay here a while," he said. "I need to revise more for Potions."

"Aah," Smith said, removing his hand from Harry's shoulder. "Do you mind if I stay, too? I'm pretty good at Potions, but there's still some Defense stuff I don't understand."

Harry nodded his head as he watched Neville file out with the other seventh years. "Why not?" Harry sat down in his warm seat.

Smith sat beside Harry, their thighs brushing against one another. Harry pretended not to notice.

"What do you need a camera for?" Duo asked, eyes wide.

"Well," Heero said, his hips swishing seductively as he walked over to the bed. "I remember making a promise to you. Now, I don't remember the exact wording, but I _think_ my part went something along the line of 'nice pictures with naughty toys.' "

Duo's eyes went wider a he caught Heero's meaning. Then, his face fell. "I don't have a camera. Or toys."

Heero tapped his chin, thinking. He'd figured Duo wouldn't have sex toys, but he'd thought Duo would at least have a camera. A light bulb switched on over Heero's head, and he snapped his fingers.

"I know," he said. Walking over to Duo, Heero ran the tip of his wand over Duo's forehead to his chin, like a Muggle thermometer. "_Danir Soril_. Now, you'll remember this picture perfect."

Duo slumped down next to Heero, pulling out as he did so. He wiped Heero's hair off his sweaty forehead, and gave Heero's cheek a kiss before collapsing again.

"See?" Heero said. "Didn't I tell you it would be great?"

Rolling his eyes, Duo grabbed Heero's tie and dragged him down for another kiss.

Selune


	33. Lost? In Hogwarts? Impossible!

Disclaimer: I do not own any things Harry Potter—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to the wonderful J. K. Rowling and whomever else she decides. I do not own anything Gundam Wing—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to (I think) Bandai and Sunrise.

Spoilers: This fic contains spoilers for books 1-5 of Harry Potter and all of the episodes of Gundam Wing. This fic does not include Endless Waltz.

Rating: R

Pairings: Neville/Harry, 2x1

Summary: Two years ago, the One Year War ended. At this time, the five heroes—the Gundam pilots—disappeared from the Muggle world. Three of them—pilots 02, 03, and 05—reappeared shortly after in the Wizarding world, as students at Hogwarts School of Witchraft and Wizardry. Now, twenty months after the fact, Heero Yuy and Quatre Winner are coming to Hogwarts, and they're bringing all of their secrets with them. The world—especially one Harry Potter—will never be the same.

Peace, Love, and Family:

The Story of the Vanuli Three

Chapter 32: Lost? In Hogwarts? Impossible!

"And _he_ added chopped billywig, and the whole thing exploded!" Quatre said, laughing.

"Really? When I knew him, Heero was the type of person to do everything perfectly, correctly, and in order," Daemon said.

The two of them were strolling lazily down the corridors, talking to pass the time until dinner.

"Well," Quatre said, stopping to play with the tassel of a tapestry on the wall, "Heero's changed a lot in the time I've known him." Quatre let his arm fall back to his side and caught up with Daemon. "But I guess we've all changed—those of us involved in the war."

"War _does_ change things," Daemon agreed. "But then again, so does peace."

Quatre thought about that and decided Daemon was wrong. "Peace doesn't stick around long enough to change things much. At least, in the human world," Quatre said. He looked up at Daemon. "You know, my people have a saying that I whole-heartedly believe in: "Peace is fleeting, love is transitory, but family is forever." Peace is quickly broken by war, love fades and flitters away, but your family will always be there. They can't turn you away, no matter what you do. You can abandon them, betray them, hurt them, and they will always forgive you. Family is the only constant."

"Do you really believe that?" Daemon asked, softly.

"Yes." Quatre put all of his emotions—his frustrations and joys and sadnesses—into that one word, attempting to convey exactly how deeply he felt about it. "It is the Vanuli way to care only for family. My family—my brothers, Dorothy, my cousins—is the most important thing in my life."

"And what about everybody else?" Daemon asked. "How important are they in the World According to Quatre? Your friends? Acquaintances? Enemies?"

"I like people," Quatre began slowly. "Of course, I like some people—there are some I count as friends. I can be with other people, occasionally."

"Occasionally?" Daemon asked, eyebrows raised.

"All right, all right," Quatre conceded. "Family is the only important thing in my life. Everyone else can go fuck themselves."

They walked a few paces before Daemon responded. "That seems like a pretty harsh philosophy."

"It's a pretty harsh world." Quatre stopped to stare at a portrait of the three Gorgons. He touched Medusa's hair, and she hissed at him. He'd never seen that portrait before. Looking around, Quatre realized he didn't recognize any of the other paintings. Quatre whirled around to Daemon. "Where are we?"

"So _that's_ how the Memory Potion works," Harry said, ecstatic that he finally understood it. "But wouldn't a quick _Obliviate_ be just as good, only faster."

"It's true that the Memory Charm is quicker than the Memory Potion, but the potion is more effective," Zacharias said.

The two were still in the library, actually studying now that the rest of the group—sans Hermione, who was stooped over, reading at her usual table—was gone. Harry was surprised (read: he almost fell out of his chair, screaming, "Pod person! Pod person!"), but he found that Zacharias could actually be sort of okay when they were together one-on-one. Just a bit, though. He was still snarky.

"Also, which you should know by now, honestly, Harry," Zacharias smiled and winked at Harry to show he was teasing, "potions are always better than charms, when available."

"Not too bloody great when you're in a duel," Harry said. "I can just see it now: "Excuse me, sir, but could you possibly wait for me to get out my nasty, never-before-been-survived, _more effective_ potions?" Harry put down his wand and began moving his hands over his robes, as if searching for pockets. Zacharias' smile broadened, and Harry picked his wand back up. "And that's the argument for charms."

"I suppose so," Zacharias conceded. He opened one of the books in front of him to a random page. "So tell me everything you know about werewolves. They're sure to be on the exam."

Harry blinked at the abrupt change of subject (pun intended), before answering. "Werewolves, like most Dark creatures, are nocturnal. They..."

"Mmm," Heero sighed as he stretched. "Hey, darlin'," he said to the boy-man with an arm currently wrapped around Heero's torso.

"Dun wanna gerrup," Duo protested, burying his face further into Heero's neck. "Sleepy. Comfy."

Heero laughed, causing Duo to shake with his laughs. "I don't want to get up, either, but it's almost dinner time." Heero checked the clock beside Duo's bed. "It's six, already. Dinner's started. Now, get up, get up, get up." Heero started bouncing on the bed, trying to bounce Duo off of him, but it didn't work.

"Dun wanna eat," Duo said, squeezing Heero more tightly.

"We _have_ to, Duo," Heero insisted. "Maddy's going to be there to check on me, and if I'm not there, she'll hunt me down. And when she finds me, I'm taking you with me."

Duo groaned but let go of Heero. Rolling off the bed, they began to search for their clothes.

Truth be told, Heero didn't want to leave to go to the Great Hall any more than Duo did. The warm bed was comfortable, and he had a naked Duo with him. He was deliciously sore in all the usual places—with several hickeys in very unusual places—and he wanted to do nothing more than lie in bed with Duo, snoozing and making out for the rest of the night. Unfortunately, it just wasn't possible.

Heero found his briefs and hurriedly pulled them on. It took several minutes, but Heero finally managed to find and put on all of his clothes. Duo wasn't able to find his tie—where it went, they would probably never know—and had to get a clean one.

Heero saw Duo with his tie loosely tied, and he pounced, covering Duo's neck and face with kisses. "Ties are so sexy," Heero said, grabbing Duo's and pulling him down for a slow, deep kiss.

Duo pulled back. "We better stop, now, or neither of us is making it to dinner tonight."

Heero smirked and grabbed Duo's proffered hand. The lovers walked hand in hand to the Great Hall, where they were forced to part and sit at their separate tables.

Heero sat dowm in his usual seat, lost in recent events, unaware of his surroundings. It took several minutes of no "Are you going to eat that?"s and "So what are we doing tonight?"s and the ever mature "Somebody got laaid."s for Heero to realize something.

"Where are Quatre and Harry?"

"I can't _believe_ we got lost!" Quatre cried out, turning around in a circle, hoping to catch a glimpse of something recognizable. Quatre had no such luck, as every painting, tapestry, and statue was as foreign as the next.

"All right, Quatre, calm down," Daemon said, squeezing Quatre's shoulder.

Quatre shrugged him off and stalked away a few paces. "I am calm!"

Quatre walked back the way they came, yelling at the portraits to please give directions.

Needless to say, none of them obliged. Anyway, none of them spoke English, either, Quatre soon discovered. Every last painting was of some fabulous beast or legendary Dark creature. There were the Gorgons, acromantulas, diricrawls, a wonderful rendering of Bigfoot and family, and an each uisge, but no humans or other speaking beings.

Quatre walked faster and faster, flying past beast after beast, not even bothering to call out to them anymore. Quatre ran, barely seeing anything, but the empty hall in front of him. _If I can just get to an intersection, I'll be able to find a way out._

Quatre ran and ran and ran as fast as his human legs could carry him. He tried not to think—_Not trapped. Not trapped—_but it wasn't working too well. Quatre screamed as he came to the end of the hall. A wall blocked his escape.

Quatre grabbed at the stones in the wall, clawing at them to move. He scratched them with no rational thought, bloodying his hands.

"Aah!" Harry screamed when he saw his watch. He blushed as Madam Pince glared at him. "Dinner's almost over. We have to go."

Harry grabbed a stack of library books and began haphazardly putting them back. He was thankful that the shelves were self-alphabetizing, so he wouldn't get in trouble for putting them in the wrong places. (Rumor was, Pince banished a kid from the library for life for just that same offense in 167, before the charm was put in place.) Beside Harry, Zacharias grabbed another stack and began putting them back—in their actual, correct spots, too. After only a few minutes, the two boys had all of the books put away and were gathering their stuff to leave.

Harry lingered at the table as Zacharias shoved the last of his books into his bag. Zacharias looked up and smiled at Harry.

"I had fun," Harry said. He blushed. "Well, you know, for studying and all."

"I understand perfectly," Zacharias said, shouldering his bookbag. "And I agree. This was fun. We should do it more often." He lay his hand on Harry's shoulder and rubbed his thumb in a circle. "There's something I've been meaning to ask you for a while, Harry."

"Yes?" Harry asked. He looked up at Zacharias. Nice, normal Zacharias, who hopefully didn't have one jealous bone in his body and would never want Harry enough to grow bitter and jaded about it.

"Would you go to Hogsmeade with me next Saturday?" Zacharias asked, not a hint of fear or nervousness in his voice.

Without trying to rationalize al the reasons he should decline, Harry's mouth opened all by itself, and stupidly said, "Yes."

Dorothy dropped her glass with a _crash_, the pumpkin juice spilling down the front of her robe. _Something's wrong._ One of her boys was in trouble, upset, lost, scared. Something was wrong with one of her babies! Quickly, ignoring the sticky mess on her robes, Dorothy stood and scanned the Great Hall. Both Harry and Quatre were missing! Dorothy closed her eyes, concentrating on her missing boys. _Show me._

"Miss Dorothy?" Molly Green said. "Is everything okay?"

Where were her boys? Dorothy was seeing through too many eyes. Systematically, like at the Halloween Ball, Dorothy sifted through her spiders turning off the ones nowhere near her Niamos.

_There!_ There was Harry in the library with the Hufflepuff Chaser. Harry had a blush disappearing into his robes, but he wasn't in any kind of trouble. At least, none that he couldn't get himself out of.

So that meant it was Quatre. Dorothy felt another bolt of panic flit through her, and she wasn't sure if it was hers or Quatre's.

"Miss Dorothy, do you want me to get Madam Pomfrey? You're looking a little pale," Molly said.

"I'm fine," Dorothy said. Absently, she tucked a lock of Molly's hair behind her ear. "Don't you worry."

Leaving her seat, Dorothy strode quickly from the Great Hall, searching for her little lost boy the entire time. _Quatre, where are you?_

Feet clopped in a run behind Dorothy.

"Dotty, what's wrong?" Heero asked. "Are Quatre and Harry all right? Why aren't they at dinner? What's wrong?"

"Nothing, probably," Dorothy said, shutting out Gryffindor Tower and the entire third floor. "I'm sure everything's fine." She ran her fingers through Heero's hair, trying to placate him.

"I know something's wrong, Dorothy. I'm not stupid," Heero said, smacking her hand away. "I know that look on your face, and it's not an "everything's fine, let's all be merry" look."

"You're right," Dorothy admitted, focusing the majority of her attention on finding Quatre. "Quatre's scared, but he doesn't feel hurt. Probably got stuck in another vision or something." Quatre wasn't stuck in a vision. He hadn't been for over two months, and he'd been practicing his Sight almost every night since.

_Aah! There he is!_ Dorothy adjusted her vision to see Quatre better. He was sitting on the floor, his knees drawn up in front of him like a little child. That Daemon guy—of whom Dorothy was still suspicious; one doesn't go from Public Enemy Number One to Everybody's Best Friends in a matter of days—was there, trying to console Quatre. Dorothy panned the area, attempting to figure out where Quatre was. It had to be a dead end somewhere because Quatre was surrounded by three walls.

Dorothy didn't recognize any of the paintings, the tapestries, the statues, nothing! "Aargh!" Dorothy screamed, punching, the nearest wall. She brought back her fist with a little blood and a lot of crushed stone.

"Show me how to get there," she said in her quietest, most calm voice. "Take me to him."

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw a spider move. She turned and followed it, Heero trailing behind her like a lost puppy.

"Did you find a way out?" Quatre asked, huddling on the floor. _Not trapped. Not trapped_, Quatre mentally chanted. He did _not _like confined places. The only place he could take being trapped in was Sandrock. His Gundam, despite being an agent of war, had always had a soothing quality that Quatre picked up on and used to make it through each battle.

"No, Quatre. I'm sorry," Daemon said, sitting beside Quatre, resting his head against the stone. "There's a wall at the other end, too. This must be one of those wonderful, disappearing passageways everyone's always talking about."

"What fun!" Quatre jeered, trying not to hyperventilate. "A hall full of beasts! We're in the friggin' Bestiary!"

"Look, it'll be okay," Daemon said. "We'll figure a way out, or somebody will come find us."

"Yes, well, we'll suffocate before then!" Quatre demanded. He scrambled up and began scratching at the connecting wall again. "Let me out! Let me out!"

Daemon grabbed Quatre from behind picking him clear off his feet. "Shh, shh," Daemon said, patting Quatre's hair. "We'll be okay. There's plenty of air. I saw all kinds of cracks in the stone. See?" Daemon brought a large crack in the wall in front of them to Quatre's attention. "Plenty of air. And we won't be in here long enough to worry about food or water."

Food? Water? Quatre hadn't even thought about that! They could starve to death before anyone found them.

"Shh, shh," Daemon whispered, setting Quatre back on his feet. He rubbed his hands in soothing circles on Quatre's back. "I guess you're claustrophobic, right?"

"Wrong," Quatre scoffed, breaking away from Daemon's arms. What did _he _know about Quatre? "I'm a Gryffindor. "We're not afraid of anything, remember?"

"Yeah, I know," Daemon said. He sat back down on the floor.

Quatre left him there and paced the hall, never letting the connecting wall with the each uisge painting out of his sight.

"Wait a minute!" Daemon shouted, jumping up. "You're Vanuli, right? Why don't you just turn into one of those creatures and ask them the way out?"

Quatre whirled around faster than it took the tornado to sweep Dorothy out of Kansas. "NO!" he growled.

Heero followed Dorothy like an obedient puppy, Duo following silently behind him. Dorothy twisted and turned into so many different tunnels and hallways following some invisible leader that pretty soon, Heero was hopelessly lost.

Heero didn't know what was wrong with Quatre or even how Dorothy knew something was wrong, but he trusted his Naiyama. The triplets had speculated for some time that Dorothy had some system—most likely very difficult and hard to understand by the likes of them—to watch to over them and make sure they were safe and brushing their teeth at night.

After all, most Naiyamas never spent a night away from their Niamos until they reached their majority, and here Dorothy was—sanely, relatively speaking—spending night after night away from them, in a completely different wing of the castle! The only thing the triplets didn't know, of course, was exactly what her system was and how invasive it was.

Heero shuddered to think of his Naiyama—who was more a mother to him than his own mother ever was—spying on him during sex. It was disgusting, unthinkable, and completely up Dorothy's alley.

"Where are we going, Dorothy?" Heero asked. This constant running on stone floors was not going to help the healing process out any. Or his sex life. "Where's Quatre?"

Dorothy stopped in front of a stone wall. She back up and looked around, confusion dancing a jig in her eyes. "Here," she gestured to the wall. "He's supposed to be here."

"There's a _wall_ here," Heero said, even though it was obvious to anyone with working eyes.

"I see that, Imela," she snapped.

Ooh, touchy. Use of the Vanuli name was never good.

"The wall must not have been here when he and Rosencrantz went in. One of those tricky-castle things."

"Wait, Daemon's in there?" Heero asked. "How do you know?" There was no way Dorothy could know someone was with Quatre unless her whatever-it-was told her.

"I _know_ because my _spiders _told me," Dorothy said, the "duh" being implied, of course. And the "D'oh!"

"You're what?" Heero asked, advancing.

"Nothing," Dorothy said, turning back to the wall. "Besides, we have bigger things to think about, like freeing your brother."

"Dorothy," Heero said in a serious tone.

"Oh, yes, fine!" Dorothy said, throwing her hands up in the air. "I involuntarily enlisted all the spiders in the castle—and possibly the Forbidden Forest—I don't know because I've never tried to extend it that far and—"

"Dorothy."

"Oh, fine. I enslaved the spiders and I keep an eye on you and your brother through them. Are you really that surprised? And no, I don't watch you in the shower of during your kissy-kissy goo-goo stuff with Maxwell. I prefer not to watch my babies in sexual activity," Dorothy said all in one breath.

"Thank you Dorothy. We've been curious about your spying system for a while, now."

"How did you...?"

"I know you just as well as you know me."

"Right," Dorothy said, shaking herself. she turned back to the wall. "Do you think we can get back to the business at hand now?"

Heero smiled and went to the wall, trying to figure out how to get through it.

"Why not?" Daemon asked, bewildered. Why wouldn't Quatre do it? It was supposed to be natural and simple for Vanuli.

"Just, just no," Quatre said, stamping his foot.

"Okay, then, do you have a better idea?" Daemon said. Quatre was about two minutes away from a mental breakdown, Daemon could clearly see that. What was he supposed to do?

"No, I don't," Quatre said. He sat down again and patted the spot beside him. "Could you just sit down, please? You're making me nervous."

_You're way past nervous_, Daemon wanted to say but, wisely, didn't.

"Why are you so scared of small spaces, anyway?" Daemon couldn't help but ask. "I mean, you piloted a Gundam. How much smaller can you get than a cockpit?"

"How did you—Right," Quatre said. "You grew up with Heero. Of course you know."

"That and that little documentary that aired on the news channels this summer. You were only shown the once, but you were clearly a pilot. Especially since you were shown with Heero. I know that Barton, Chang, and Maxwell were pilots, too. That's the only reason I can stand them, you know. War veterans and all that." Daemon scratched his chin. "I've been wondering how they got all that footage of the war for that show..."

"Going fishing now, Daemon?" Quatre said. His voice—and hands—was shaking less. "Well, the footage of Duo in the Oz prison, obviously, came from Oz. Director Une got most of it. If you noticed, she's not shown much. She didn't want her public image tarnished any more than necessary. She needs all the respect she can get as head of the Preventors.

"The, umm, other footage came mostly from the Gundams'—and other Mobile Suits'—recording systems. Sometimes, only the video or audio could be salvaged. That's one of the reasons that song—you know, "Just Communications"—was played so much. And, of course, to make it more dramatic.

"Then, the rest of it was just interviews from everyone, except the Gundam Pilots. No one knew where we were—and we certainly weren't telling."

"Of course not," Daemon said. No one wanted to be associated with that mess of a war.

Quatre looked up at Daemon. His eyes were red, like he was crying. One lone tear fell down Quatre's cheek.

In the portrait, the each uisge whinnied.

"What?" Daemon asked as the demon horse stomped its feet. Why was it doing that? Running through every list of creatures he'd learned about in Care of Magical Creatures—or, more likely, the compound—trying to figure out what was wrong with the each uisge.

Daemon looked at Quatre, and it clicked. "Water!" he yelled, swiping the tear off Quatre's cheek. Laughing, he rubbed it on the painting.

Wild, the each uisge buck itself right out of the portrait.

"What was the point of that?" Quatre yelled, looking at the empty painting.

"Hopefully, a lot." Daemon grabbed two corners of the portrait and lifted.

Selune


	34. Beta6, Omega2, and the Werewolf

Disclaimer: I do not own any things Harry Potter—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to the wonderful J. K. Rowling and whomever else she decides. I do not own anything Gundam Wing—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to (I think) Bandai and Sunrise.

Spoilers: This fic contains spoilers for books 1-5 of Harry Potter and all of the episodes of Gundam Wing. This fic does not include Endless Waltz.

Rating: R

Pairings: Neville/Harry, 2x1, Relena/OFC, OMCx4, Zacharias/Harry

Summary: Two years ago, the One Year War ended. At this time, the five heroes—the Gundam pilots—disappeared from the Muggle world. Three of them—pilots 02, 03, and 05—reappeared shortly after in the Wizarding world, as students at Hogwarts School of Witchraft and Wizardry. Now, twenty months after the fact, Heero Yuy and Quatre Winner are coming to Hogwarts, and they're bringing all of their secrets with them. The world—especially one Harry Potter—will never be the same.

Peace, Love, and Family:

The Story of the Vanuli Three

Chapter 33: Beta-6, Omega-2, and the Werewolf

Quatre sat down at the Gyffindor table, bleary-eyed and sleepy. He hadn't gotten much sleep last night between Heero's renewed nightmares and Harry's dreams of flying bicycles—which directly contributed to the bruise currently on Quatre's shin.

"Are you going to eat that?" Harry asked, looking entirely too cheerful for seven o'clock in the morning. Without waiting for an answer, Harry helped himself to some of Quatre's bacon.

"Hey!" Quatre said, trying to sound indignant.

"Fine. Here," Heero scooped some of his eggs onto Quatre's plate.

_Good,_ Quatre thought. _Who needs bacon, anyway?_

"And I'll take some of these." Heero reached over Quatre to Harry's plate, grabbing a couple of pieces of toast.

Their morning—well, every meal, really—ritual done, all three boys began eating. The other students around them—namely, Ron, Hermione, and Neville, even though Neville was always careful to take the seat farthest away from Harry—were all very familiar with the triplets' needs to share and share alike and made no comment about the exchange.

"What do you think we're doing in Divinations today?" Ron asked, for once not talking with his mouth full.

Harry put his fork down. "I don't know. To tell the truth, I didn't actually do the reading," he admitted sheepishly.

"Harry," Hermione began, going into what Quatre now recognized as Lecture Mode, "NEWTS are approaching very quickly, and if you don't study every subject—even Divinations—you'll do poorly. It'll reflect badly on you—"

"So, Harry, what exactly were you doing with Smith last night, if you weren't studying?" Ron asked, interrupting his girlfriend.

Harry's whole face went red. He picked up his fork and stared down at his plate. "I didn't say we weren't studying, just that we weren't studying Divinations. Besides, Zacharias doesn't even take Divinations."

"Were you studying chemistry, then?" Heero asked, getting in the conversation for only a moment before going back to his prior activity—namely, making eyes at Duo from across the room.

Quatre pursed his lips. It wasn't that Quatre wasn't happy that his brothers were happy; it was just that they were both setting themselves up for a fall. Heero was headed south on a train named Heartbreak come March, and Harry already had his heart broken once this term. Harry's new beau was either real competition to Neville, or he was cannon fodder used to make Neville jealous. Quatre really couldn't say which he preferred—for Harry to have moved onto another guy, or for him to still be caught up on the last one.

"Look! The mail's here," Harry said, pointing at the ceiling covered in owls.

Hedwig was among them, carrying many letters. About two weeks ago, Relena had stopped stockpiling the triplets' mail and made them fill out a change of address form at the local Owl Post Office in Hogsemeade. Since then, it seemed like they got literally hundreds of pieces of mail a day.

"One," Harry counted as Hedwig dropped her bundle into his lap.

"Two," Heero said, a stack of letters falling in his lap.

"Three." Quatre.

"Four." Harry.

"Five." Heero.

"And six," Quatre said, the last bundle dropping in his lap.

Quatre and his brothers began going through their mail, setting aside the important ones and throwing the rest in a pile to be read as soon as they got the chance. Seeing as how they had over 1,000 letters to read "when they got the chance" laying on Heero's bed in the dorm, it would be a long time until any of them were read.

"Ooh!" Quatre shouted, snatching up one letter, letting the rest flutter to the ground. "One from Relena!"

Harry and Heero leaned in close, breathing up all of Quatre's air as he opened the envelope. Quatre stuck his hand in the envelope, but instead of feeling a piece of paper, his hand came away with a silver, hexagonal disk. Quatre couldn't figure out why Relena would send that to Hogwarts, as it was a Muggle recording device. To be more specific, it was a storage unit for holographic recordings. Quatre showed the disk to the other Gryffindors, but only Heero even knew what it was.

"Magicology," Heero said when he saw the disk, as though it explained everything.

Quatre was confused, and he told Heero so—not so much with words, but by tilting his head and furrowing his eyebrows, much like a confused dog.

"The scientific study of magic," Heero explained. "Or, the magical study of Muggle technology."

Quatre tilted his head more—it _was_ only 7:15 in the morning, after all—and Heero made to grab the disk. With an instinct born of a thousand hours of "keep-away," Quatre brought it up over his head, out of Heero's reach.

"Fine. Keep it," Heero said, sitting back down. "Basically, it should be magically modified to work here. Unless, of course, Relena wants us to go stark raving mad over what's on the disk. And she's completely gotten over the Window Incident. I think."

Quatre scrunched up his lips and nodded. Breakfast really was too early for the mail. Hell, breakfast was too early for _eating._ Yawning, Quatre punched in the universal code to get the recorder to play.

A few second later, the disk seemed to collapse in on itself, and an image shot out of it. Small and transparent, Relena Peacecraft looked at somebody off camera. "Is it on yet?" she asked, getting a "Yes" from none other than Tashpi.

"Look," Harry whispered to Quatre, pointing to the head table. "The Headmaster's got one, too."

"And so does Dorothy," Heero said, pointing to the Slytherin table.

Quatre shushed his brothers—it wasn't his fault he hadn't noticed! It was the clock's fault, for it being too early for him to notice anything that wasn't right in front of his face—and looked back to the holographic Relena.

"I am terribly sorry for the lateness of this message," the recording of Relena said, "but it has taken quite some time to gather all the materials needed, and I wished to address this in full, all at once.

"It was one month and two days ago that my cousin, Heero Yuy, was attacked in this room, the Great Hall of Hogwarts School of Witchcraft and Wizardry. Due to his quick thinking—and flight capabilities, I'm told—no other student was hurt or—Mother forbid—killed, which is always a possibility when magic such as the Fury Shooter is used by one not capable of controlling it properly.

"It is with my duty as per the conditions of the Peacecraft family's alliance with Hogwarts own Headmaster in mind, that I give this protection to the school."

The holographic Relena flashed off, a new image taking her place. Huge, white, and gleaming, the monsters were familiar to Quatre, having read about them during his father's tutelage when he was a child. They were—

"Bone golems," Relena's image said, the holograph flashing back to her. "To be more specific, fifty-two, fifteen foot tall, over one ton each monstrosities, all under the control of my own cousin, Dorothy Catalonia."

Dorothy's subsequent shout of happiness could, no doubt, be heard from the Hospital Wing.

"I know she will wield them effectively against any outside enemy," Relena said, finishing up her speech. The holographic Relena turned to Heero—though Quatre had no idea how she'd known where Heero sat—and said, "You get better quick, cousin. Yule is coming up shortly, and I need you on my team during the games. How else am I to do any damage?" Relena turned back to Quatre. "Maya Donai, cousins," she said, though Quatre also heard the "Maya Dona" meant for Professor Dumbledore, as well.

"Come on," Harry said, tugging Quatre's robe-sleeve as soon as the image terminated.

Quatre looked up and follwed the running Harry—who was following the running Dorothy—to the Entrance Hall.

PLFPLFPLF

Heero knocked on the heavy, metal door three times, in quick succession. _Knock, knock, knock._ He stood with his feet shoulder width apart, his hands clasped behind his back, and waited to be granted entrance. He knew—everybody knew—that when the door to the office was shut, the doctor was working. Dr. J did not like to be disturbed when he was working, but he knew it was a necessity, sometimes. So the system was set up. Anyone needing to get in touch with Dr. J would first talk to Heero. Heero would then talk to Dr. J for them, if he felt it necessary. Sometimes, it took hours between him knocking on the door and Dr. J answering the door. Sometimes, it took only minutes. They both knew that Heero would never leave until he had talked to Dr. J, no matter how long it took.

"Enter," Dr. J called out, startling Heero. This was a new record—only one minute, thirteen seconds before the doctor welcomed him in.

Heero opened the door and shut it softly. Dr. J detested slamming doors. He called the people who did such things "infantile," "uncouth," and "delinquent." Dr. J had never called Heero by any of those names, and Heero planned to keep it that way.

"Beta-6, report," Dr. J ordered, barely glancing up from his stack of papers.

Heero began to rattle off the memorized reports he'd read from the other weapons, beginning with Alpha-11's success at infiltrating You-Know-Who's inner circle. Dr. J might have declared an alliance with the Dark Lord, but he wasn't stupid or naïve enough to expect You-Know-Who to live up to his side of the bargain. Not without careful observation, anyway.

"Enough," Dr. J said, stopping Heero in the middle of his report. "Give me the Hogwarts report."

Heero tensed up without meaning to. The Hogwarts report seemed to be all Dr. J was really interested in. anymore. "Omegas 1, 12-a, 12-b, and 12-c have been confirmed to be sighted at the school, enrolled as students. 12-a, 12-b, and 12-c have, apparently, bonded. Alpha and Beta units were planning on using Omega-1 as a spy, but it has become clear that he has defected to the other side. He was last seen by Beta-7, mouse Animagus, in the company of Omega-12-a, on the night of November 29th."

"Only three days, then?" Dr. J said, rubbing his chin. He raised his hand and waved away the problem. "Mark Omega-1 down as "loyalties unknown" for the moment. We must remember that he was vital in locating Omega-12-a and Omega-12-c.

"Now, tell me about our new allies."

"Yesterday, a pack of twelve werewolves ran across Gamma-3 and Omega-2, while they were surveying the new property in Sank. Gamma-3 and Omega-2 were able to talk the pack into coming here to forge an alliance with us and You-Know-Who. The leader, Roun, appears to be around twenty-five, with all of the hotheaded arrogance that comes with that age. While he and his pack are not very stable mentally or emotionally, they would come in handy during a battle situation."

"Yes, yes. Draw up the papers," Dr. J said, running his fingers through his mustache. "And tell me, where is Omega-2?"

"She's in the nursery, if I'm not mistaken," Heero said, stopping his way to the door. "Shall I fetch her for you?"

"Yes," Dr. J said, going back to his papers. "Send the lovely Miss Guildenstern here."

PLFPLFPLF

Heero sat beside Duo and gave him a kiss on the corner of his mouth. "How was class?" he asked, pretty sure he already knew the answer.

"Herbology? Yuck!" Duo said.

Duo was not fond of Herbology, Care of Magical Creatures, or Arithmancy. Anything to do with dirt or numbers was not on Duo's top ten list of favorite things to do. Heero didn't know why Duo continued to take the classes if he hated them so much—and he could never figure out just _how_ Duo could be in the top five students in those classes.

"What about you?" Duo asked.

Heero sighed. "Well, it didn't beat gyromancy day." Heero had told Duo about that day at least twenty times, "but it wasn't so bad. Trelawny couldn't figure out whether Harry or I was going to die, so she determined that we both would. Squished by a boulder magicked by Quatre while he was in a hissy fit over us not sharing our blood-flavored lollipops with him. And taunting him about it."

"You got off lightly, then," Duo joked. "What a mundane death!"

Heero smiled. "She'll probably be more creative tomorrow. After all, she'll have all of lunch to think about it."

Heero began getting his things out of his bag just as Professor Snape strode into class, sneering at the seating arrangements. Since the night of Heero's partial recovery, he'd sat with Duo during Potions, messing up the entire equilibrium of the class. Trowa—who used to sit with Duo—was forced to sit with Daemon, and Daemon's old partner, Blaise Zabini, was forced to sit with Daphne Greengrass, which forced Pansy Parkinson to sit with Millicent Bulstrode, who had been without a partner.

After Harry's break-up with Neville and Quatre's little adventure with Daemon, the class had been disrupted even more. Harry—who had been sitting with Neville—sat with Dorothy, forcing Quatre away. Quatre began sitting with Daemon, forcing Trowa to sit with Zabini, forcing Greengrass to go back to Parkinson.

In the end, Heero was sitting with Duo, Quatre was with Daemon, Harry with Dorothy, Ron with Hermione, Dean with Seamus, Lavender with Parvati, Bulstrode with Davis, Parkinson with Greengrass, Crabbe with Goyle, Trowa with Zabini, Nott with Malfoy, and Neville on his own.

Anyone who had ever been in this particular classroom with this particular class knew that was not a good combination. Things were bad enough with the previous invisible line which split the classroom into Slytherins and Gryffindors was broken and the houses mixed with one another. But to have Neville Longbottom—Harry's ex-boyfriend and all-around ass, in Heero's opinion—working by himself without anyone helping him along... It was not a good thing to think about.

Professor Snape, apparently, agreed with Heero's assessment of the situation. As soon as he stepped into the classroom, looking down his long nose at the students as though they were bugs not worthy of being squished by him, he shouted, "Longbottom, switch places with Catalonia! I won't have you work unsupervised."

Heero narrowed his eyes as Neville jumped to obey, gathering his stuff up in his arms, not even bothering to put them in his bag. Dorothy leisurely gathered her things from the table behind Heero, bumping into him on her way to the front table.

Daemon and Quatre sat at the second table. Quatre had all of the important mail from breakfast on the table, in the uppermost right corner of the table. Relena's disk gleamed on the top of the letters—which stuck out, at most, an inch and a half past the table.

Neville, visibly shaking—whether because of Snape or the prospect of working with Harry, Heero didn't know—and, as clumsy people sometimes do, knocked into Dorothy, who knocked into the table, which sent the disk and letters flying.

The disk, by some miracle of science, came straight at Heero. Heero, knowing it would hit either his head or his hands, reached up to catch the flying disk. The moment the disk touched his skin, Heero felt a jolt, and he screamed out.

"Relena!"

PLFPLFPLF

Relena Peacecraft was the happiest she'd ever been in her life, and she knew it was all thanks to the woman currently kneeling between her legs.

"C'mon, have a strawberry," Relena insisted from her perch on the bed. "I'll make it worth your while." Relena picked up a strawberry from the plate of fruit Pagan had sent up twenty minutes ago and dipped it in cream.

The strawberries and cherries went very well with the décor in the room. Relena—despite having gotten over many of the flaws she once had as a child (namely, stalking her cousin)—loved the color red and all of its shades. This meant pink. Everything in Relena's main quarters was pinkish. The walls were a dark pink, almost red, and the borders were a softer pink. All of the furniture was cherry wood—which wasn't exactly in the red family, but was as close as one could get with out actually painting it pink. Relena had tried it once, but it had just looked tacky. More so than even she could stand. Relena's comforter, which she now sat on, and bedskirt were pink. As were the pillows, sheets, and lacy underwear she was now wearing.

Relena put half of the strawberry in her mouth—the non-creamed side, because Tashpi loved the cream—and bent down to Tashpi's level. Lust in her eyes, Tashpi bit into the strawberry, chewing it quickly before plundering Relena's mouth.

"Mmm," Relena moaned, pulling away and licking her lips. "I can't wait to get you into my bed tonight."

Despite the less-than-legal status of her relationship with her Naiyama, Relena found it was usually pretty easy to sleep with Tashpi and not get caught. Because of Relena's title of Queen of Sank—and former title of Queen of the World—Relena had to be protected at all times. The only way to enter Relena's rooms was to go through Tashpi's—Natasha to the Muggle public—quarters. This, of course, meant that no one could get into Relena's bedroom without them being alerted beforehand, which came in handy for people not wanting to get caught having sex with each other.

"Me, either," Tashpi replied. "I can't wait until we don't have to hide this any longer. When I can bitchslap all of those men and women who paw at you during social functions."

"When you'll finally be my wife," Relena whispered.

"And you, mine," Tashpi replied.

Just that morning, Relena had proposed to Tashpi, saying how much she loved her with just a few words. Their wedding—in their minds—was set for January 2nd, the day after Relena's 18th Life Day. After they were married, even if they had to do it the Muggle way at some county clerk's office, they would be free. And Tashpi would be safe.

The only problem Relena ever had with her relationship with Tashpi—even during one of their infamous spats—was the consequence of discovery. If the Queen of the Vanuli, or the Heads of any of the other fifteen houses (Milliardo, unsurprisingly, was willing to look the other way, if they were discrete.) found out about the affair, Tashpi would be killed. She would be beheaded at Haven, and most of the 8,000 Vanuli would attend. After Tashpi's death, Relena would be banished, and her name would be erased from the Book of Death, thereby ensuring she would never be with Tashpi again—even in the Afterlife.

But none of that would happen, if they were careful.

Relena popped a cherry in her mouth, quickly tying the stem into a knot. Changing the subject, quickly, Relena leaned forward and asked, "Do you want to have some fun?"

Tashpi nodded at once.

Mischievousness flashing in both of their eyes, their Muggle clothes flew to the floor. Under the clothes sat two very cute cats, barely older than kittens.

The cats trotted out of the rooms, going to spy on Relena's advisors—and possibly her brother, if he was distracted enough.

PLFPLFPLF

Kayla Guildenstern stepped into Dr. J's office directly following his welcome. She straightened her clothes, hoping he didn't see the small stain on her right shoulder. She'd been in the nursery all day, and two minutes before her summons, Echo-Gamma-4-1 had decided to burp a bit more than air on her.

Kayla looked at the man to her left, the only other person besides her and Dr. J in the room. The werewolf slouched in his chair, his legs over the arm. He looked asleep—except for the twitching of his hand to the rhythm of a popular song.

Kayla sneered at him and remained standing. Roun—that was the werewolf's name—was obviously the child of breeder parents. They probably even raised him _themselves._ Kayla shuddered to think of it. She wasn't raised by her parents. In fact, she didn't even know who her parents were, and she liked it that way. Her own children—if she bore any—would be raised in the same way, by the caretakers in the nursery. Any breeder children she had would be killed before birth.

"You summoned me, doctor?" Kayla asked.

"Yes," Dr. J replied. "I need someone to handle a delicate matter. Mr. Roun here wished to ally his pack with both me and my partner. All of the business is in order on my end, but I need someone to approach the Dark Lord with this information."

Kayla opened her mouth to speak—surely, Alpha-11 would be better for the job—and rubbed the Dark Mark on her wrist.

"I know, I know," Dr. J said to her unvoiced question. "Alpha-11 _is _closer to You-Know-You than you are, and that is precisely the reason I would rather you deliver the message. It will possibly boost your position without betraying how close Alpha-11 is to this organization."

Kayla clicked her heels together and nodded. "Sir."

"Get your things packed," Dr. J said. "You leave at 1700 tomorrow."

Selune


	35. A Vision, a Change, and an Amenea

AUTHOR'S NOTE: I have decided, due to a couple of people expressing confusion, to date each chapter, starting with this one. At the beginning of every chapter, the day and date will be listed. If there is no date/day at the beginning of the chapter, then it is the same day as the previous chapter. Also, I would like to say that I _do_ except concrit, so anyone wishing to criticize my fic can do so without fear of me flipping out.

Disclaimer: I do not own any things Harry Potter—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to the wonderful J. K. Rowling and whomever else she decides. I do not own anything Gundam Wing—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to (I think) Bandai and Sunrise.

Spoilers: This fic contains spoilers for books 1-5 of Harry Potter and all of the episodes of Gundam Wing. This fic does not include Endless Waltz.

Rating: R

Pairings: Neville/Harry, 2x1, Relena/OFC, OMCx4, Zacharias/Harry

Summary: Two years ago, the One Year War ended. At this time, the five heroes—the Gundam pilots—disappeared from the Muggle world. Three of them—pilots 02, 03, and 05—reappeared shortly after in the Wizarding world, as students at Hogwarts School of Witchraft and Wizardry. Now, twenty months after the fact, Heero Yuy and Quatre Winner are coming to Hogwarts, and they're bringing all of their secrets with them. The world—especially one Harry Potter—will never be the same.

Peace, Love, and Family:

The Story of the Vanuli Three

Chapter 34: A Vision, a Change, and an Amenea

December 2, AC 197, Monday

"Relena!" Heero whispered. In Harry's mind, he could almost feel the scream Heero wanted to let out, ricocheting through his head. But in all physical reality, Heero only whispered the word, and if Harry had not been so close, he would never have heard it.

"What's the matter?" Harry asked. Rather, what he _meant_ to ask. Heero whirled around in his chair during the middle of the first word, effectively cutting off the rest of the question. Heero gave Harry a Look which said, in no uncertain terms, "Now is not the time to speak of this." Harry nodded his understanding, and began shuffling the parchments (last week's homework) around on his desk.

Harry didn't have to look up to feel the sneer on Professor Snape's face—sallow and greasy and hating all Gryffindors, but focusing, currently, on Neville and Harry, himself.

"That will be ten points—" Snape started, obviously remembering that there would be no House Cup this year, and thus no points to be given or taken away. "Meet with me after class, Mr. Longbottom, to discuss your detention for disrupting my class and reckless endangerment of a fellow student."

Harry snorted. It would take more than a little bump to seriously hurt Dorothy. It was like the girl was made of stone or something—which might not be too off course. After all, she had the Gift of Bones, and who knows how she manipulated her body.

"Is there something funny, Mr. Potter?" Snape asked, looming over Harry.

"No, sir," Harry said, doing his best not to laugh in Snape's face. When Snape looked away, Harry's thoughts turned to Heero once again. What had he seen?

"Very well," Snape sneered, swooping to the front of the room. "Today, as you should all know from the reading, you will be making an Anti-Seizure Potion. The main purpose of this potion is, of course, to prevent seizures from happening. However, it has another purpose as well. Can anyone tell me what it is? Mr. Potter?"

Startled, Harry looked up. "To decrease the effects of the _Cruciatus Curse_, Professor."

PLF

Harry chopped the narcissus as Neville waited off to the side, stirring the potion in a counter-clockwise motion. There were only two ingredients left after adding the narcissus—myrrh and dragon's blood—after which they could bottle the potion and go back to ignoring each other, as usual.

Since their breakup, Harry and Neville hadn't been alone together, which Harry counted as a Good Thing. Harry loved Neville with all of his heart, but they were over. Finished. Dead. Harry needed to get over it and move on. Which he was attempting to do with rebound-boy, Zacharias Smith. Of course, the "getting over it and moving on" plan didn't work too well when the object of your affection was close enough to touch.

Snape had to know what he was doing when he paired Harry with Neville. Most of the professors might put on horse blinders and sing "Kumbaya" rather than listen to the rumor mill about students' romantic lives (which, according to Remus, Professor McGonagall did with alarming frequency), but that didn't mean all of them did. Professor Snape (again, according to Remus) was especially fond of not only listening to the gossip, but using it to amuse himself during classes—and any other time he was around any amount of students. It must be like finding a bag of galleons for Snape, Harry's relationships with Neville, Zacharias, and (according to Gossip Queens Parvati and Lavender) both Fred _and _George Weasley.

Harry scowled, wishing everyone would just say out of his business. But he was Harry Potter, the Boy-Who-Lived-Not-Because-Of-His-Mother-But-His-Connection-To-His-Brothers, and as long as he was alive, people would talk about him. Harry didn't even think death would shut up half of the rumor-mongers—his _or_ their own.

Harry added the myrrh to the cauldron and indicated to Neville to stir in a figure-eight pattern. The two hadn't spoken one word to each other, automatically slipping back into their former roles—Harry doing most of the work while Neville tried not to blow anything up, both of them, at times, consulting their notes to make sure they were doing it right.

On cue, Harry added three drops of dragon's blood to the mixture, completing the potion. It turned milky white—just as it was supposed to—and Harry let out a breath he didn't realize he was holding. In earlier years, if you messed up your potions, you just got a failure for that day's work. Now, due to Professor Dumbledore's meddling with the NEWT level classes, you not only failed but you had to remake the potion that night in detention. Not only did Harry already have his "tutoring" with Remus that night, there was no way on Earth or her colonies that Harry was going to spend an evening hanging out with his ex-boyfriend and his most hated teacher.

Harry filled two vials with the potion—one with his name on it, the other with Neville's—and took them to Snape's desk. Fortunately (or maybe fortune had nothing to do with it), Harry got the vials to the desk without incident.

Formerly, Malfoy or one of the other Slytherins would try to trip him up on his way, resulting in too many cracked vials (and more failures) than could be counted. But since Harry's little display of power the day after Halloween, Malfoy had become very subdued, and the rest of the original Slytherins (those who had been at Hogwart since first year) followed Malfoy's lead.

Harry made it back to his seat—again, without incident—and pulled his Care of Magical Creatures text out of his bag. Thankfully, it wasn't the biting kind. Harry began reading the assignment for after lunch, completely ignoring Neville's staring.

PLF

As soon as Professor Snape dismissed them, Heero flew out of there like a bat out of Hell. Looking behind him to make sure the others were following him, he practically ran to an empty corridor that used to house the other Potions classroom, back when two or even three professors were needed to teach all of the young witches and wizards.

Heero stopped and turned around, causing Duo to smack right into him. "Ow," they said in tandem, each rubbing their foreheads. The others—Dorothy, Daemon, Quatre, and Harry—arrived as Heero was making his headache go away.

Dorothy glared at Duo as soon as she saw him. "What's _he_ doing here, Heero?" she spat. Heero's family still wasn't too happy—on the whole—about his decision to be with Duo again.

"He was just leaving," Heero said. At Duo's widened eyes, Heero took Duo aside. "This has nothing to do with us," Heero whispered, so the others couldn't hear. "This is...family business. They don't—"

"It's okay," Duo said. He wrapped his hands around Heero's biceps and leaned down for a kiss. "I love you. I'll see you in Care of Magical Creatures."

"Okay," Heero said, returning Duo's kiss. "I'll see you. I love you."

Duo walked back down to the main Potions corridor. After he was out of sight, Heero's family crowded around him.

"What did you See from that disk?" Dorothy asked.

"What's going to happen to Relena?" Quatre asked.

"Is she okay?" Harry asked.

Heero walked away from the huddle, trying to get his thoughts in order. True, that's all he had done during Potions, but his vision deserved a little thinking about. "I'm not completely sure what's going to happen." He sat down on a dais which once housed a knight statue. "It all felt weird, like it wasn't real. The vision was pretty straightfoward—their wasn't any symbolism or anything. But it just—it flipped back and forth, between Relena and Tashpi and Haven and Sank. It was—they were.... They were caught."

All but Daemon gasped at the statement.

"No," Dorothy insisted, her jaw hanging open.

"It can't be!" Harry protested.

"They only have to last another month!" Quatre said.

Silence reigned over the Vanuli and Vanuli-to-be. No one seemed to want to say anything. Not that Heero blamed them. He didn't much want to talk, either. Truth be told, he would rather he hadn't Seen what he had. Tashpi, dead, dripping with blood. Relena, screaming, clawing at her captor. Queen Aravu, declaring the sentence. Death and banishment.

"It can't be true," Quatre said, misty-eyed. "Who caught—catches them?"

"I don't know," Heero said. "I didn't See that."

"When?" Dorothy asked.

"I don't know."

"Where? How? Why?" Quatre demanded.

"I don't know! I don't know! I don't know!" Heero screamed, jumping up from the dais. "All I saw was Tashpi dying, Relena screaming, and Queen Aravu. I don't know anything else."

Silence, once more.

Harry snapped his fingers. "We could warn them! Send them an owl or something!"

"No!" Heero roared. "What if that's how they're caught? We would be playing right into the hands of Fate!"

"Then what do you suggest we do?" Harry said, throwing his arms out wide. "We can't just sit here and do nothing. We have to help them!"

"They cannot be helped," Heero said quietly. "What I See cannot be changed. The before and after can, but not anything I See. It's already to late to help them."

"You don't know that!" Harry said, pacing back and forth in front of Heero.

"Yes, I do," Heero said. "I've tried before, to change what I See. It can't be done."

"Maybe it can," Daemon spoke up from the shadows. "Heero, you, yourself, said that the vision felt weird. You don't know all of these things that you usually do. You told me that, with your Sight, you can pin down your visions to the second. You don't even know an approximate time—only that, most likely, it's sometime within a month. And most importantly, you aren't back up to full power."

"You're right," Harry said, his eyes lighting up.

"What?" Heero asked. "What's he on about?"

"Oh!" Dorothy yelled, apparently figuring it out.

"What?" Heero asked, again, getting annoyed.

"If you're not back to full power," Daemon began, "then maybe—just maybe—your vision was not the vision of an Oracle, but the lesser vision of a Seer or Prophet."

"Oh, Mother," Heero whispered, finally figuring it out. "That means that there's a chance to help them. We could save them."

"But how?" Quatre asked. "How do we help them without anyone figuring out what we're doing—and why."

Silence once more reigned supreme as the five thought about how to save Relena and Tashpi.

Heero jumped up, snapping his fingers to get the others' attention. "I've got it," he said, turning to Daemon. "How would you feel about stepping up our contract about a week?"

PLF

"Just think about what you want to be," Heero told Harry. "I'll hold onto you, and at as a catalyst. It'll make the first change easier." Heero demonstrated the Change before holding onto Harry, turning into a butterfly, and owl, a fairling, and eventually back to a human. Heero stepped back into his clothes. "We can go whenever you feel ready."

Dorothy took her attention away from them and gave it back to Quatre. As usual, Quatre was refusing to even _think _about Changing. Of course, after his first attempt, when he didn't think clearly about what he wanted to Change into (and ended up being the equivalent of self-aware air), she didn't much blame him. For most Vanuli, the first Change or two is done with the help of an older Vanuli, sometimes with the Naiyama. Quatre's first attempt was done with his sister Allegara, and though she was a nice girl, she was not the most attentive.

As Quatre steadfastly refused to Change, Dorothy let her mind wander back to their new problem. Heero's solution was nothing short of genius. After touching the disk again, Heero had been able to pinpoint the time of the visions to sometime within the next two week. It had been night in the vision, but that didn't mean much if it took place in Haven, which it most likely did. Time was different to Vanuli—days, weeks, months could take seconds or years. There was no constant measurement.

Heero's first prong of attack was to let Tashpi and Relena know something was going down, without giving away the big secret should the message be intercepted. Dorothy had helped her boys write a carefully worded message to Relena and Tashpi that hinted at the danger, which Tashpi was sure to pick up on. Along with the letter, they sent a hairpin and a brooch, both Portkeys made to transport the girls right outside the Hogwarts' gate when they said the code word. They, obviously, would not be able to travel their normal way, which was going through Haven. In the letter, the boys specified a time and place for a fire-call, so Dorothy could give out both the code word and other information.

Heero and Daemon modified their contract to read "three weeks" instead of "one month," and Quatre and Harry gave their permission (though reluctantly), through a much shortened ceremony, for Daemon to join the family. Hopefully, the extra manpower would help stave off the Vanuli army, which would no doubt be out for blood—Tashpi's and her helpers'. But this also meant Heero would have have his work cut out for him—not just making a garland for both Daemon and Tashpi, but also coming up with an appropriate Vanuli name for Daemon.

The last part of Heero's plan was the most important and—in accordance with Murphy's Law—subject to the most problems. It wasn't just that it would be a "shotgun" wedding, of sorts, but that it would be in such a human-heavy environment. After the wedding, Relena would need to get Tashpi pregnant, to solidify their marriage and put Tashpi out of the line of fire. At least, for four and a half months. By then, of course, the triplets would already be King and would give Tashpi immunity from her crime—and that was if they didn't just rescind the law completely.

"Come on, Quatre," Dorothy said kindly. She was always kind to her baby boys. She reached out to grab his hand. "We'll do it together."

Quatre looked at Heero and Harry, chewing on his bottom lip. Harry was trying—Dorothy knew it would be very embarrassing for him if Harry Changed before he did, seeing as how he had almost two years more to practice it—and Professor Lupin sat off to the side, ready to untangle anyone if they messed up. Quatre nodded his consent. "Okay. But you're going to be my catalyst."

Dorothy gave him her thousand kilowatt smile (reserved only for her boys). "Great," she said. She grabbed his hand, and told him into what they were going to turn. They, like Harry and Heero, were going to Change into butterflies.

"One," she began counting. Quatre steadied himself beside her. "Two." Dorothy squeezed Quatre's hand, reasurring him without words. "Three."

On the count of three, all four Vanuli leapt into the air as butterflies, their clothes fluttering to the floor.

PLF

"Oh, come on, Harry. You promised," Hermione said, reminding Harry of how much she wished to just take him apart, bit by bit, and learn what made him tick. "Please?"

It was midnight and, once again, all of the Gryffindor seventh years were down in the Common Room, everyone else having long gone to bed. The only seventh year not there was Neville, who had gone to bed when the sixth years did.

"If Quatre and Heero agree, we'll do it," Harry said, effectively giving away any responsibility for the decision. The truth was, Harry would love to show Hermione an Amenea. It was the others he was worried about. Lavender and Parvati—finally over their crushes on Quatre and Heero—would most likely squeal on and on about it for hours. Dean and Seamus would, like as not, be uncomfortable about it. Ron—dear, sweet Ron—would miss half of the Amenea trying not to laugh at Harry's attire.

"I'll do it," Heero volunteered. He was squirming in his seat, and Harry could tell he was still trying to work off the nervous energy that came from worrying about Relena and Tashpi. An hour and a half of Changing back and forth to whatever animal suited his fancy hadn't been able to do the job, but maybe this would.

"I'm in," Quatre said. Harry knew he wasn't doing this solely for the dancing, but more for the music. Quatre hadn't so much as picked up an instrument since coming to Hogwarts—at least, not that Harry had seen—and he was anxious to get back in practice. The wedding _was_ going to need music, after all.

"Well, Hermione, I guess that's your answer, then," Harry said, getting up from his chair and stretching. "We'll be back down in a minute."

Without waiting for her to answer, Harry started up the stairs, Quatre and Heero following after. Putting a Silencing Spell around Neville's bed, so they wouldn't wake him, the triplets went about their business of changing into their Amenea robes and putting on a ton of clinky jewelry. Quatre grabbed his violin, and triplets walked back down to the Common Room, barefoot and wandless.

PLF

Quatre cast a Silencing Charm around the Common Room and perched on the end of a work table. This would be the perfect thing to get rid of the shakes the Changes had left him in. Even with a catalyst, it was still difficult for him to do. Hopefully, one day he would get over his irrational fear and be able to Change at will, like Heero.

Harry explained their dress and what exactly an Amenea was to the humans. Heero—already beginning to get in the dancing mood—cast a spell upon himself, Quatre, and Heero, which would allow the others to see, in a misty fog which trailed after them, the words to each movement.

The triplets had decided that, to begin, Quatre would play his violin while Heero danced. Then, Harry would join in, and eventually, Quatre would leave his instrument to play by itself—Charmed, of course—and would begin to dance.

Heero had chosen which Amenea to show the others first: the Amenea of the First Mother. Quatre put bow to string and began to churn out a slow, haunting melody. Heero moved to the beat, and the fog swirled behind him.

_Once upon a time, when Earth was young, She was created from the elements. The_ _wind was Her mother, the water Her father. The earth bore Her and the fire strengthened Her. A soul was added, most precious of all, and She was made whole. She was nothing and everything. The Alpha, the Omega, and everything in between._

_She lived for billions of years, floating through the air, the water, and the fire. She was alone but not lonely, for She knew not what that meant._

As Quatre played, the melody getting faster, Harry joined it.

_One day, the First Mother spotted a man in the fairy world. He was blue-skinned and radiant. Though She had never experienced it before, She fell in love with him. Hard, deep, and fast._

_The First Mother did not know what She felt, but She knew She wanted the man to be happy—and be Hers. For weeks, She watched the man, learning his likes, his dislikes, and his needs. Never once in all that time did She come across another like him. He—like She—was completely alone._

_One day, She became frustrated with watching the man. She wanted to touch him, to hold him, to...kiss him, as She had seen others do with their beloveds. However, She had a problem. Though She was made of all of the elements, She had never spent time within Earth. All of Her playings had been with the others, and She didn't know how to make Herself like him—solid, so She could caress and hold him to Her heart's content._

_"Mother Earth!" the First Mother cried. "How do I Change, to be with my beloved?" The First Mother waited and waited and waited, but Mother Earth did not respond. The First Mother despaired and cried out, letting sorrow overtake Her._

Quatre put down his violin, and it continued to play. He joined his brothers in the fast paced Amenea.

_Just as She was without hope, Mother Earth roused and answered Her. "You must wish it so, more than anything you've ever wished. But beware, my Daughter, to Change is to die. You will no longer be immortal, as you are now. You will be mortal, and mortals die."_

_"What is 'die'?" the First Mother asked, for it was a funny word—one she had never heard before._

_"Death is when you're body dies, setting your soul loose to where it must go," Mother Earth answered._

_"Oh," the First Mother said. "So I will come to be as I am now once I die?"_

_"No," Mother Earth answered. "When you die, you will go to a place different from any you've ever been to. You will go to the Afterlife, where all mortals must go when they die."_

_"What is it like there?" the First Mother asked, scared of this death and mortals and Afterlives. "Will it hurt to get there?"_

_"I know not what you will find in the Afterlife," Mother Earth answered, "as I am immortal, and can never know the beauties of life after death."_

_The First Mother thought on this awhile. Yes, She was scared of dying. Yes, She would be giving up everything She had ever known. She didn't even know if Her beloved would love Her. Eventually, the First Mother decided._

_"I will die," She announced to Mother Earth. "I will live with my beloved, and I will die for him." The First Mother gathered Her will and desperately wished to be a mortal, like Her beloved. With a jolt, She fell from the sky-straight into the arms of Her beloved. He fell in love with Her on sight, and from them the first Vanuli were born._

PLF

Heero stopped dancing, panting and more energized then he'd been in weeks. The story of the First Mother (and Father) had always been one of Heero's favorites, mainly because it was one of the few famous ones with a happy ending. The story of Allurna and Vierry—Heero's second favorite—ended about as happily as Shakespeare's _Romeo and Juliet_. His and his brothers would most likely be as tragic. To the eyes of a human, anyway. To other Vanuli, the triplets' fate would be seen as a very happy ending.

Heero came out of his thoughts to applause. The girls—Hermione, Lavender, and Parvati—all stood clapping, giving the triplets a standing ovation. The guys were clapping, too, but not as enthusiastically as the girls.

"Merlin, that was _amazing_!" Hermione said, raising her voice in an emotion other than anger—which Heero had yet to see.

Heero felt himself begin to blush as Lavender began to whistle. Out of the corner of his eye, he could see Harry doing the same.

"Thank you," Quatre said, bowing with his violin in hand. "But I believe we must all get to bed now."

Hermione checked her watch and paled. "Quatre's right. Up to bed, everyone! It's almost 1:30."

Heero allowed himself to be shooed up to bed, crawling in after Harry, who got the coveted middle spot that night.

PLF

Dorothy walked back and forth up the corridor Harry had told her to, focusing on her need to speak with her sister and Relena. Finally, a door appeared which hadn't been there before, and Dorothy opened it and went in.

The room was exactly as she imagined it. Small but not constricting, the only furniture was a plush red chair in front of the crackling fireplace. Dorothy grabbed a handful of the powder on the mantel and threw it in the fireplace, calling out "Natasha's room, Sank Palace." Due to safety constraints, Tashpi's and Relena's rooms couldn't be Flooed into, only out of, but they still allowed fire calls in both directions.

"Donai Maya," Dorothy said upon sight of her cousin and sister. She noted the pin in Tashpi's hair and the brooch on Relena's pajamas. "I see you received our gifts."

"Yes," Relena said, nervously toying with the brooch. "What is this about? Your letter didn't say much."

"Is your room secure?" Dorothy asked, unwilling to say anything more until that was confirmed.

"Of course," Tashpi said, no doubt insulted. "I check these rooms every day. They're clean?"

"When did you last check it?" Dorothy asked.

"Noon," Tashpi answered. "It was—"

"Check it again," Dorothy interrupted. "You never know who's been there since then."

"I'll have you know, Ismea, that Relena and I are the only persons capable of entering into these chambers," Tashpi said.

"So it won't matter if you just check it once more, now will it?" Dorothy said, smiling and gritting her teeth at the same time.

"No, I guess not," Tashpi said, the exact same expression on her face. Tashpi got up and began the complicated spells to detect anything amiss. After she was done, she sat back in her seat. "There. It's done. Now, what's so urgent?"

Dorothy sighed. "At approximately 10:15 this morning, Heero had a vision about the two of you."

Relena and Tashpi straightened in their chairs.

"Before I go on," Dorothy said, "I must say that we have determined the vision to be that of a Prophet's or Seer's, not that of an Oracle's. This, obviously, means that the outcome _can_ be different.

"Now, as for what he saw, and what we plan to do about it..."

Selune


	36. Kidnapped

Disclaimer: I do not own any things Harry Potter—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to the wonderful J. K. Rowling and whomever else she decides. I do not own anything Gundam Wing—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to (I think) Bandai and Sunrise.

Spoilers: This fic contains spoilers for books 1-5 of Harry Potter and all of the episodes of Gundam Wing. This fic does not include Endless Waltz.

Rating: R

Pairings: Neville/Harry, 2x1, Relena/OFC, OMCx4, Zacharias/Harry

Summary: Two years ago, the One Year War ended. At this time, the five heroes—the Gundam pilots—disappeared from the Muggle world. Three of them—pilots 02, 03, and 05—reappeared shortly after in the Wizarding world, as students at Hogwarts School of Witchraft and Wizardry. Now, twenty months after the fact, Heero Yuy and Quatre Winner are coming to Hogwarts, and they're bringing all of their secrets with them. The world—especially one Harry Potter—will never be the same.

Peace, Love, and Family:

The Story of the Vanuli Three

Chapter 35: Kidnapped

Tuesday evening

December 3, AC 197

4:56 PM

France Base

_Kayla grabbed her pack and secured it around her shoulders. In it was food, water, a tent, and many other supplies she or the werewolves might need on the long trek to the Dark Lord's hideout—enough for at least a week. Because You-Know-Who and Dr. J were both paranoid to the point of insanity (with good reason, of course—it's not paranoia if they really are out to get you), getting from one base to another was a bitch. _

_First, they had to hike out to the Apparition point—which was about ten miles away on very rough terrain—where they would Apparate to a French brothel. At the brothel, the Madam would let them Floo—for a hefty fee—to a pub outside London. From there, they would portkey to two miles outside of the Dark Lord's wards. They would then hike to the wards (there was only one specific spot in which to enter, and it was warded against Apparition), disarm the traps, enter the wards, re-arm the traps, and hike the quarter mile to You-Know-Who's England base._

_It was hard enough to go it alone, but with a dozen newbies, it would be pure torture._

_"Are you almost ready?" Kayla snapped at the pack leader, who was fighting with his own backpack. She drew a circular device from her bag (the only one, as they had been taken out of the wolves' bags) and punched in her own personal code. The device, when used correctly, produced the same effects as the Cruciatus curse. It had both a scientific and magical setting, so it could be used anywhere. It allowed those without the hatred necessary to use the Cruciatus curse to use the Unforgivable to its full advantage, and because it didn't use the user's magic, it was virtually untraceable. Dr. J developed it six months ago, and it was still in beta testing. However, Dr. J wasn't exactly a very patient man these days. According to him, the best test for the device's usefulness would be on the battlefield. _

_Today, Kayla would be using it to protect herself. She was distrustful of the werewolf pack's motives. As far as she knew, the werewolves could have been playing Dr. J when they decided to ally themselves with him. They could be spies from the Dark Lord—or worse, spies for Dumbledore, the Preventers, even Heero and his brothers._

_Kayla explained to Roun and the others about the use of the Cruciatus Imitator, letting them know, in no uncertain terms, that she would not hesitate to use it against each and every one of them, if she felt herself to be in danger from them. _

_The wolves finally ready, Kayla gave the signal to move out._

PLF

_Kayla didn't like having her back to the werewolves, but it couldn't be helped. They had been blindfolded when she and Gamma-3 (a big woman in her late twenties, with short, black hair—she went by the name Clarice Shoemaker) brought them to the main base. Kayla was the only one who knew the way._

_"Can we stop now?" one of the werewolves whined. He was called Cub, and Kayla could see why. He couldn't be much older than fourteen, and he still had that baby pudge on his cheeks. Kayla didn't know his real name, but she didn't much care._

_"No," she said, climbing over a fallen tree. There had been a nasty storm a few nights ago, and there were trees down all over the place._

_"Yes, we can," Roun said from behind her. She could practically _feel_ him sit on the tree, along with the rest of his overgrown mutts._

_Subtly shaking with anger—it had been a long, long day, and they still had three miles to go before dusk—she turned on her left foot. "What. Did. You. Say?" she demanded. She did _not_ tolerate_ anyone_ undermining her authority._

_Roun was smiling at her, petting Cub's hair. "Look, we're all tired. We've spent most of the day being poked and prodded by your Healers, not to mention being "kidnapped" by you and that other woman just yesterday. Just give us a few minute's rest, and we'll be good as new."_

_Kayla looked around at the other ten werewolves. From their expressions, she knew they wouldn't move until their leader said to. She supposed that she could use the Cruciatus Imitator on one or two of them, but she didn't think that would exactly inspire loyalty in them. Kayla sighed and sat down on the tree, dangling her legs off the end. She supposed a little rest couldn't hurt._

PLF

_"All right," Kayla said, getting to her feet. "Break's over. Time to go." To her relief, the werewolves all got up and started to follow her._

_It only took them half an hour to make it to the Apparition point. Kayla glanced around at the markers—a rock that was a little too round, a blue mushroom, and a one inch squared plot of only four leaf clovers._

_"Listen up, people," she shouted as she stopped. "We have reached the Apparition point. I will not describe to you where we are going. Instead, I will blindfold you and personally Apparate each and every one of you to the next leg of the journey. I will only be taking one at a time, so line up, people."_

_The werewolves did as they were told. A tiny woman with honey blonde hair and blue eyes was the first in line. On Kayla's gesture, she stepped in the area between the markers and let Kayla blindfold her. Kayla grabbed the woman in a bear hug, touching as much of her as possible—it was always a gamble, Apparating other people—and Disapparated to the brothel._

_They re-appeared in a back room, next to the Madam's quarters. Kayla pressed the button beside the door and waited for the Madam to show up. She planned on explaining the situation before going back and getting the others._

_Kayla started to turn back around when her head erupted in pain, and everything went black._

PLF

Wednesday morning

December 4, AC 197

4:13 am

Gryffindor Tower

Quatre jerked awake, his naked legs tangling with Heero's. For once on the side of the bed with the night table, Quatre fumbled for the clock. Upon seeing the time, he groaned. He didn't have to get up for another two hours and twenty-seven minutes! Sighing, Quatre untangled himself from Heero and got out of bed. After months of training, it was second nature to write down his visions as soon as they were over.

This vision was weird for one reason only. It seemed like it lasted forever. It skipped over irrelevant data—which most other visions did—but the sheer amount of information conveyed was phenomenal. He now knew how to get to Voldemort's headquarters, and he could figure out where Dr. J's base of operations was based on what he saw. Plus, the kidnapped girl—who undoubtedly knew Heero, if her identification number was any indication—would be a wealth of information.

On the bed, Heero stirred. Quatre stilled his writing—quills weren't exactly the most quiet of writing utensils—and waited for him to settle back to sleep.

No such luck.

"Quatre?" Heero asked, his voice hoarse from sleep. "What are you doing up?"

"I just had a vision," Quatre whispered, not wanting to wake up Harry, also. "I was just writing it down. You can read it later. Go back to sleep."

"Okay," Heero said, a yawn interrupting him. "Goodnight."

Once Heero was asleep, Quatre began writing again. That vision had to be a lucky break!

PLF

It was the second class of the day, and Heero was concentrating furiously. Not on McGonagall, though. He was ignoring her just as he had ignored Trelawny during Double Divinations that morning. No, Heero was concentrating on something much more important—Daemon's garland.

A garland was usually a wreath one wore on one's head. It was made from flowers and the the stems of such flowers. Wreaths were usually worn during festivals, holidays, or after winning some type of contest. In ancient Greece, Olympic winners were rewarded with wreaths—unlike now, when Olympic winners were rewarded with fame and shoe endorsement deals.

To Vanuli, garlands were much more important than any wreath could be. Upon birth, a garland was made for each and every baby Vanuli. Many components went into the garlands. Flowers and such were the base of the garland; they gave it its shape. The hair of the mother, father, and baby were weaved into the garland. A great deal of magic went into making the garlands, and only the Vanuli nobility had the requisite amount of magic to actually make the garland a part of the baby, able to grow and change as the child did.

Noble children were taught how to make garlands between the ages of sixteen and eighteen. At least, they used to be. The tradition of making such magnificent garlands had fallen out of practice, and it was usually the responsibility of the custodial parent to make the garland.

A Vanuli would keep his or her birth garland until death, with only two exceptions: marriage, or a change in status. When married, the Vanuli changing his/her family would be given a new garland made by the other's family. Since Heero didn't know if Milliardo would have the time or the inclination to do so, he was doing Tashpi's, as Relena's favorite cousin. Dorothy was making one for Relena in case Milliardo didn't show up for the wedding, and Relena was forced to take the name of Mordal instead of the other way around.

A garland made for a rise in status (such as being confirmed as the Crown Prince), the immediate superior (the Queen) would make the garland. If there was no superior, the Vanuli being replaced would make it. For a decline in status, a Vanuli would use his/her former garland.

For Daemon, Heero had to make a whole new garland (and pick out a Vanuli name) because he would be Daemon's brother-father. His brother as a peer, and his father as the more experienced, the Turner.

The Turning ceremony was tentatively scheduled for Saturday evening, after Harry's date with the Hufflepuff. After the ceremony, Daemon could go one of three ways: His body could reject the blood and flush it out of his system; his body could reject the blood and kill him; or his body could accept the blood and turn him Vanuli. If either the first or the third happened, Daemon would need constant supervision, at least until Sunday at midnight. If the second started happening, Heero was going to freeze him and try to reverse the process. Very few people had ever died from the Turning, but it was enough to worry about.

"Mr. Yuy!" McGonagall rapped her hand on his desk, startling him out of his concentration. "What are the hypotheses experts have for the talent of becoming an Animagus?"

Heero thought. "One theory, which most Animagi believe, is that Animagi simply are more powerful—at least, as it relates to transfigurations. Another hypothesis is that it's like Quidditch or casting spells—some have a natural talent for it, but almost anybody can do it with enough practice and perserverence. The last hypothesis states that there is a certain set of genes which enables people with the correct alleles in the correct order which allows those people to become Animagi. It's a very controversial theory, since a Magicologist came up with it."

"Very good, Mr. Yuy," Professor McGonagall said. "I would give you house points, but since that would be moot, two points to your last paper."

Professor McGonagall walked back to the front of the class, lecturing on Animagi, Metamorphmagi, and the many forms of transfiguring oneself.

Heero went back to Daemon's garland, adding in a bit of his hair.

PLF

Dorothy was walking to Care of Magical Creatures with Daemon, Relena's garland hanging loosely from her hand. She didn't like Daemon much—he was a sniveling, little coward who hurt her boy, Heero—but it was nice having someone with whom to walk to class. She didn't have to throw her own weight around near as much when she walked after him—sort of like walking in some else's snow tracks.

Dorothy had been working on Relena's garland since the day before, and it was close to being finished. A bit more of the Vine Rose—which Heero had shown her in a garden he'd seen from the Owlery one day—a couple drops of blood, and all of the necessary spells, and it would be done.

"Ugh! What is that smell?" Daemon asked as they got closer to Hagrid's house, holding his hand over his nose.

"What sme—" Dorothy wrinkled her nose, resisting the urge to puke up her recently eaten food. Wednesday COMC was always the best—right after lunch.

"It smells like rotten eggs and—"

"Burnt matches," Dorothy interrupted, bringing her hand up to her nose.

"I was going to say, 'a chicken coop,' " Daemon said huffily.

"I've never smelled a chicken coop," Dorothy said, "but I have smelled burnt matches. And that's what this smells like." Not wanting to get into another petty argument with Daemon, which would just end up making her want to grab him by the ears and throw him into the Forbidden Forest—sort of like this nasty principal did to a little pig-tailed girl in a really old Muggle vid Heero made her watch—which would, in turn, end up pissing off Heero and Quatre who—remarkably—actually seemed to like him.

As Dorothy got closer to Hagrid's house, she could see several bonfires lighting up the sky, melting the little bit of snow that always stayed on the ground in the winter. Dorothy found and stood by her boys—Heero with two garlands hanging from his arm.

"What creature is this?" she asked Harry while looking around for one type of monster of another. Harry usually knew—better than anyone—what was going on in Professor Hagrid's class, seeing as how he actually tried to treat Hagrid's class as he would any other, instead of the easy "A" most people considered it.

"Drakes," Harry said, leaning into her. "Invisible, benevolent creatures that help out with fire magic. The only drawback is that they smell like a cross between rotten eggs and a chicken coop."

"Told you so," Daemon said, coming up from behind her.

Dorothy scowled and stomped on his foot.

Not stopping in his speech, Harry went on, explaining that, because of the fires, Hagrid had attracted a clutch of salamanders, too. Dorothy looked more closely at the fires, seeing purple balls of fire rolling into the ice, turning into red lizards, and jumping back into the fire, as she mused on Harry's reaction to Daemon. He seemed to trust Daemon just a little bit more than she did—which meant, of course, not a damn bit. Harry, however, never actually said it aloud, so she wasn't too sure.

Hagrid came out of his house, banging the door shut.

" 'Ello, class," Hagrid said, going to the closest fire. "Terday, we'll be learnin' about drakes and salamanders."

PLF

Heero sat in his regular seat in Potions—next to Duo—musing over Quatre's most recent vision as he continued weaving his own hair into Daemon's garland. He could probably finish it that night and be able to work on Tashpi's tomorrow.

Quatre's vision was a lucky break for the triplets. One of the things that had worried Heero often was that they didn't know where their enemies were and what they were doing. They now knew that Dr. J and Voldemort had teamed up, but they were paranoid about the intentions of their partners in crime. The triplets knew how to get to Voldemort's hideout—all they had to do was Apparate into the brothel and go from there. They knew basically how to get to Dr. J's headquarters—and they had a prisoner from whom they could extract exact directions. Roun and the others would be greatly rewarded for their deed.

The only problem Heero had with the whole thing was their choice (or lack thereof) of prisoner. Heero had grown up with Kayla Guildenstern. She was Daemon's second-in-command, and with Daemon here at Hogwarts, she was the ranking officer of the Omegas. Chances were, she, like most of J's weapons, had undergone some type of brainwashing. It would be difficult and definitely no too pretty to do what they would most likely have to do. Especially to a girl he'd once thought of as a sister.

Snape burst into the room, robes billowing out behind him as it always did. Heero ignored his professor and continued working on the garland. He could see Dorothy doing so, too, out of the corner of his eye. She'd snagged the desk opposite him, leaving Ron and Hermione to the front seat.

Snape sneered at Heero and Dorothy, but the didn't say anything about it. Obviously, he'd heard what happened to the professors who'd tried to make them stop their activity. Rather, he'd heard what happened to Professor Vector when he'd tried to make Dorothy stop during her Double Arithmancy class. Using magic that was supposed to be kept for use only in protecting her Niamos, she'd encased him in a bubble from head to toe for the remainder of the class. Every spell he sent at the bubble—to try to get himself out—was obsorbed into the bubble, making it stronger. Dorothy left Professor Vector in the bubble until class was over, forcing him to lecture while in it.

Since nobody could _prove_ it was Dorothy's doing—she had neither pointed her wand at him nor said a word—she got off scot free. The whole school knew, though, that it was Dorothy's doing. With each passage of the rumor, Dorothy's spell grew bigger—and her name more feared. Dorothy liked the gossip more and more, actually adding to it when it came back around to her.

As Snape began lecturing—thankfully, Wednesday Potions was just a single, and there would be no actually potion-making—Heero began half-listening. He could always get the notes from Quatre later, who despite being somewhat smitten with his Potions partner, could always be counted on to listen and record every word Snape said.

Heero looked down at the garland. It had enough of his hair in it. Nodding to himself, he reached in front of him and pulled out a few strands of Daemon's—it was better if they had the root on them.

"Ow!" Daemon yelled, holding the back of his head with his hand. He turned around in his seat. "What did you do that for?"

Heero smiled and showed Daemon the garland. Heero had told him a bit about the roles garlands played in Vanuli society. At seeing the garland, Daemon's mouth formed an 'O.' He turned back around in his seat, still rubbing his head.

Snape said nothing about the exchange.

PLF

Another night of massive group studying was over. It was nine o'clock, and the seventh years had been studying since classes let out at three. Thankfully, the library stayed open later during exams, so they weren't forcibly thrown out at eight. Most students studied non-stop, though a few actually took a break to east supper. Harry hadn't been one of them, and his stomach was growling as he waved good-bye to Trowa and Ron, his Transfigurations group. Transfigurations was to be Ron's and Harry's second end-of-term exam, after Divination next Wednesday.

Harry watched as most of the group filed out of the library—more like ran, for Heero and Maxwell; it was their first time staying for the whole thing—and Harry was glad to see that Zacharias (and of course, Hermione) was not with them.

Arms slinked around Harry's shoulders from behind, pulling him in close, a nose pressed against his neck.

"Your name better be Zacharias Smith, or you're headed the right way for an smacked bottom," Harry said lightly. He turned in Zacharias's arms and kissed him on the chin—which was as high as he could get without tiptoeing; Zacharias was easily the tallest person in seventh year, even beating out Dean and Ron by several inches.

"I guess it's a good thing I took that Polyjuice Potion, then," Zacharias said. "You won't know it's not me for another hour." Zacharias leaned down to give Harry a proper kiss when both of their stomachs growled fiercely.

"Guess that won't happen just yet," Harry said, laughing into Zacharias's chest. "I guess you didn't break for food, either." Harry put his bag over one shoulder and tugged on Zacharias's hand. "Come on, I know where we can get some food."

"We're turning into a couple of regular Grangers," Zacharias said, using the—sometimes hurtful—seventh year slang regarding Hermione and her study habits. Zacharias quickly shouldered his bag and let Harry lead him out of the library. "Where are we going?" Zacharias asked, loudly, after they were out from under the glare of Madam Pince.

"To somewhere my friends won't be happy I'm showing to you." Ron didn't like Zacharias very much. He had taken up offering to set Harry up with George, again. Well, after he took the time away from glaring at Neville and threatening to do him grievous bodily harm.

"Your friends wouldn't like you to show me a lot of things," Zacharias said as they reached the ground floor. "And that, of course, is the sign that you _should_ show it to me."

Harry headed to the door to the right of the main staircase in the entrance hall, leading Zacharias down a corridor, stopping when they reached the painting of a bowl of fruit. Stomach growling, Harry tickled the pear. It giggled, and Harry opened the door, pulling Zacharias after him.

The house elves were bustling around in the kitchen, still cleaning up the dishes and the leftovers (some of which went to Hagrid's creatures). Harry turned around to see the look on Zacharias's face. His jaw hanging open for only a second before he got a hold of himself.

"How did I not know about this place?" Zacharias asked. "I walk by this corridor every day."

"You've just got to know the right people," Harry said, just as Dobby popped into view. Harry turned to Dobby, obscuring Zacharias from the house elf's view.

"MisterHarryPottersir," Dobby squealed. "What can I do for you and your Never?"

Harry's smile fell, and Zacharias stepped out from behind Harry, no longer out of sight by any view—even a house elf's.

"We just need a couple of sandwiches. Right, Harry?" Zacharias said, bumping into Harry.

Harry broke out of his daze. "Yeah," he said. Dobby smiled at him like a—well, like a house elf on a mission.

Harry turned to Zacharias and fisted his hands in Zacharias's robes. "I am _so_ sorry." Apparently, the rumor mill hadn't made it down to the kitchen, or Dobby had refused to believe any of it and still believed Harry and Neville to be together. Last year, even before they got together, Harry and Neville would come to the kitchen to get food for the Gryffindor parties.

"It's all right," Zacharias said, blowing it off. Harry knew he cared, though. That he didn't like being Rebound Boy very much. Zacharias jumped up onto a counter, his legs swinging. "So tell me," Zacharias said nonchalantly, looking at Harry through his curly bangs, "why did you and Longbottom break up?"

Harry jumped up next to Zacharias, twining their hands together. He focused on their entwined hands. "There were several reasons, actually," Harry began, trying to figure out how much to tell Zacharias. After all, they hadn't even been together a week, hadn't had their first date, or even made their relationship official. "Neville started getting really jealous in the middle of our relationship. He was always a little possessive and down on himself, so there were signs. He convinced himself that I was cheating on him with Quatre and Heero," _which isn't so very far from the truth_, "even more so when he learned that we were related. If you know anything about Vanuli culture, it is a reasonable belief." _Biggest understatement of the year._ "Well, we both got tired of it and called it quits."

"So it was a mutual thing?" Zacharias asked, letting out a breath. Subtly but Harry heard it.

"Yeah," Harry lied easily. Telling Zacharias everything didn't seem to be too good an idea. After all, he was completely honest with Neville, and look how that turned out.

"Well, you don't have to worry about me being jealous," Zacharias said. "You know, _if_ we become boyfriends."

"Oh, yes," Harry said. "_If._" He looked at his watch. "You know, I think you're Polyjuice Potion should be wearing off right about now. Let's see who you really are." He leaned in close to Zacharias, to give him a slow, sensual kiss, but a noise to his right distracted him. Harry looked, and it was Dobby, carrying a big tray of sandwiches. "Food!" Harry yelled, neatly jumping off the counter.

Selune


	37. Zacharia vs Neville

AUTHOR'S NOTE: The term "mother-in-darkness" and the like are not mine. They come from the book _Anno Dracula_, written by Kim Newman.

Disclaimer: I do not own any things Harry Potter—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to the wonderful J. K. Rowling and whomever else she decides. I do not own anything Gundam Wing—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to (I think) Bandai and Sunrise.

Spoilers: This fic contains spoilers for books 1-5 of Harry Potter and all of the episodes of Gundam Wing. This fic does not include Endless Waltz.

Rating: R

Pairings: Neville/Harry, 2x1, Relena/OFC, OMCx4, Zacharias/Harry

Homepage: 

Summary: Two years ago, the One Year War ended. At this time, the five heroes—the Gundam pilots—disappeared from the Muggle world. Three of them—pilots 02, 03, and 05—reappeared shortly after in the Wizarding world, as students at Hogwarts School of Witchraft and Wizardry. Now, twenty months after the fact, Heero Yuy and Quatre Winner are coming to Hogwarts, and they're bringing all of their secrets with them. The world—especially one Harry Potter—will never be the same.

Peace, Love, and Family:

The Story of the Vanuli Three

Chapter 36: Zacharias vs. Neville

Friday evening

December 6, 197

7:27 PM

Sank Palace

Relena looked around the ballroom and sighed in resignation. Three hundred and two people—most foreign dignitaries of some kind, all Muggle—littered the grand room, chatting, dancing, and all-around having a good time.

It was Franz Hubert's 16th birthday—a very important year to Muggles and Wizards alike—and as the son of newly appointed Ambassador Hubert from the L3 colony, Relena was obligated to throw him a party. Which she did to grandiose proportions. Every Muggle diplomat in Sank was invited, as were their children (fifteen and older, only), important members of OECA (Organization for Earth-Colony Alliance), and a few of the higher up Preventers. Of course, reporters were invited, as well, both Muggle and wizard, to record the night—and Relena's great work as hostess over the whole shebang.

Normally, Relena would be in her element at the moment, dancing up a storm and unwittingly drawing the focus away from the birthday boy. Tonight, though, Relena just couldn't get lost in the spirit of things. Everything she did, she wondered, _Is _this_ the thing that gets me and Tashpi caught? Or is it _this She was so high-strung with worry that the guests around her began to lose their own party moods.

Relena reached out to Tashpi, stopping her hand before she could brush away a wayward curl. Reluctantly, she settled for giving a quick squeeze to her fiancee's shoulder. "I need to powder my nose, Natasha," she said. Everyone knew that "Natasha"—no last name—was Relena's personal bodyguard, so no one would think twice about their closeness. Hopefully.

Relena hated having to hide what she was and who she was in love with! It made her want to just let loose a tantrum worthy of the ancient gods—many from whom she was descended.

"Of course, Miss Peacecraft," Tashpi said, not touching Relena in the slightest. Normally, there would be some small touch—a brush of hands, hair trailing over a shoulder, _something—_but with the threat of imminent exposure hanging over their heads, even that small comfort was taken from them.

Relena started making her way to the door, stopping every few minutes to chat with a guest or two. She wasn't going to be a bad hostess just because she was worried. Besides, it would look suspicious if she didn't talk to the guests, and suspicion was not something Relena wanted to have in her life just yet.

"Give your wife my love," Relena said to Ambassador Luxen from the newly rebuilt L5, finishing their conversation.

Finally, Relena had a clear shot to the door. Confident that Tashpi could keep up, Relena began walking briskly toward the door. No one moved to stop her, and she was finally in the Grand Entrance to Sank Palace.

Relena turned in a hall just to the right of the ballroom. It led to a small powder room, the larger, public ones being situated nearer to the ballroom. Relena banged open the door and entered the pink room. The walls were pink, the carpets were pink, the vanity was pink, even the padded bench was pink.

Relena slumped down on the bench—which was installed with its back to the wall—and waited for Tashpi to catch up. She didn't have to wait long, because Tashpi came barreling into the room mere seconds after Relena.

Tashpi locked the door—using both the latch and a Vanuli locking charm—before striding over to Relena and kneeling in front of her. Relena spread her legs, hiking her pink and white bouffant dress over her knees, and Tashpi moved into the opening. She lay her head on Relena's exposed thigh, her arms wrapping around Relena's left leg.

"I love you," Tashpi said, with a tenderness only Relena knew existed. Growing up in the Warrior clans, Tashpi had been taught to not feel—or at the very least, not to show her feelings. Tashpi learned her lessons well, and before she was chosen to be Relena's Naiyama, she was well on her way to being a ranking officer with the Enforcers. Relena was the only one for whom she would drop her mask. "I'll protect you until the end of time, if I have to."

Relena slid off the bench onto Tashpi's lap. "I love you more." She wrapped her arms tightly around Tashpi's neck. "No one will ever hurt you, or they'll have to answer to me. And I can be a raving she-bitch when angry."

That got a quiet snort from Tashpi. Relena crushed herself against Tashpi and pretended the world—and danger—didn't exist.

PLF

Kayla groaned and wiped the mud from her eyes. She and the werewolves—her captors—were hiding from the rain in an abandoned cave somewhere in Great Britain. She didn't know where, though, as they blindfolded her whenever they were on the move. At least, those times she was conscious. The werewolf pack doped her up most of the time, giving her sleeping potions and, occasionally, hallucinatory drugs. All in all, it made her feel quite uncomfortable and contributed to her not knowing exactly how long she'd been captured. Of course, it _could_ have been the concussion resulting from being bashed over the head by a werewolf with a rock. By the ripeness of her clothes, Kayla figured she'd been with them for between three days and a week and a half.

Kayla didn't expect a rescue. The next time she saw anyone working for Dr. J or Dr. J himself, she would be killed without question. It was the number one rule: _Don't get caught._ The number two rule, of course, was _If you happen to get caught, self-destruct immediately_. As Kayla had no weapons—the werewolves had relieved her of them after knocking her out, going so far as to snap her wand—she had no means with which to end her life.

Out of the corner of her eye, she saw the young wolf-cub stray near her. Smirking to herself, she stood up on her legs—still shaky from her last drug-induced haze. She grabbed a handful of pebbles at her feet and yelled out to the boy. "Hey, Cub!" she screamed at him, readying her projectiles. He turned towards her. Good. She spoke in a very steady voice. "When my master finds out about your betrayal, he will punish you greatly. He's very creative in what he does with prisoners. He might even give you to me. After all, I'm _very_ creative. Do you want to know what I did with..._to_ the last person who betrayed the cause?"

Cub stood there, his own morbid curiosity would lead to his downfall—and her freedom.

"I didn't do much, to begin with," Kayla said, weaving her web. "I started out by stripping her naked. Nudity makes people feel vulnerable, you know?" She almost whispered the last. "She was chained up, blindfolded, _helpless_."

Kayla walked as far to Cub as her magical restraints would allow. "I didn't have the Cruciatus Imitator then, so I had to use something else. Have you ever heard of the Melting Charm? It's a household charm, mostly used on pots and pans after the food has dried on them. It melts the food, making it easier to scrape off.

"Research Team II had studied it two months prior, and discovered a new use. A human use."

Kayla stretched out her hand and beckoned for Cub to come closer. He did, but not nearly close enough. Damn. "The Melting Curse, as they called it, does just what it says. It melts any part of the body the user specifies."

Kayla held her hand up to the magical barrier, and a blue light glowed in front of her. "I melted her feet first. The squish as her bones melted was such a wonderful sound. I did her lower legs next, and then the upper. Her screams intensified a hundred-fold as her arms melted, her skin holding the liquid in like a Ziploc bag. I kept her pelvis bone intact and moved onto her ribs. I melted each one individually. By then, the only thing keeping her alive were the spells put around the room. Eventually, after melting every other bone, I moved onto her skull. She couldn't scream anymore, her throat collapsing mere moments before. The fear in her eyes was the last thing I saw before I melted her skull. Her head shrank like a balloon letting out air. _And she was still alive._ I stabbed her in her stomach, and her liquid body exploded, covering the entire room in the bile. There wasn't much for the janitors to scrape up after that."

With a look of horror on his face, Cub stepped nearer to Kayla instead of away. Quietly, she threw her rocks at him, one of the bigger pebbles knocking him unconscious. With great happiness and care, Kayla knelt next to the werewolf, now fully within the barriers of her restraints. She leaned in close, to make sure he was breathing. Her hand came to his—to find a pulse—and just as her hand flexed to touch Cub's, she was—

THROWN back to the far wall, steel chains wrapping around her wrists and ankles.

"Damn wards," she cursed, kicking a flurry of pebbles onto Cub.

PLF

Dr. Jeremiah Jenkins sat at his desk, sipping his coffee. It was strong, just like he liked, with one sugar and no cream in it. He read the newspaper, stopping every few minutes to savor another reference to the Dark Lord, his partner in crime. Dr. J would usually never lower himself so much as to actually interact with such lowlifes, but the Dark Lord had resources Dr. J was salivating to use. And of course, it was never wise to fight a war on two fronts. After You-Know-Who finished off Dumbledore and the Ministry of Magic, Dr. J planned to use the Dark Lord's temporary magical depletion to his advantage—and kill the bastard.

It would surprise Dr. J if You-Know-Who wasn't planning on doing the same to him.

Dr. J put down his newspaper and went back to the files Beta-6 had brought to him fifteen minutes ago. They contained the identities of a few people who could take over Omega-2's duties while she was "indisposed." It had been a calculated risk to send an eighteen year-old girl out—alone—with twelve werewolves supposedly on his side. Luckily, his plan went perfectly, and Kayla was with the enemy. In a few days, Omega-1 and Omega-12-c would find and recondition her, making her safe to be around—and to spill forth all of her knowledge about Dr. J.

Except for one thing. Deep in her mind, Omega-2 had an idea implanted into her subconscious. It would allow her to fight the reconditioning, giving him something very important. A trusted spy in the lion's den.

PLF

Zacharias stood by his usual table in the library, waiting for Harry to leave his group—Hannah and Weasley, for Divinations, which had to be awkward—so they could begin their nightly tradition. It wasn't that old of a tradition, seeing as how they had only been seeing each other for a week. Zacharias planned on them being together for a lot longer than that.

Harry sprinted up to Zacharias, his bag halfway over one shoulder, parchment sticking out every which way, an apologetic look on his face. Harry stood on his toes and kissed Zacharias in the hollow under his lower lip.

Zacharias smiled—but not too brightly, or his friends would get on his case even more than usual when he got back to the dorms.

"I can't see you tonight," Harry said, pulling Zacharias back to Harry.

The "Why the hell not?!" was almost out of his mouth before he stamped it down. He would not be angry. He would not be jealous. He would not be paranoid. In a word, he would not be _Neville_. Zacharias was cool, calm, collected, and—most importantly—able to let Harry spend time with his annoying friends.

"I'm sorry," Harry said. "I was looking forward to it, but I have to ch—spend time with He—Ron. I've not seen him much this term."

Zacharias just nodded, not really trusting himself to say much. Harry's explanation was screwy. He'd changed his mind twice, and that was plenty suspicious. Zacharias decided to ignore it and trust that he didn't need to know what Harry was really doing. Not at all. Zacharias kissed Harry and let him go, calling out, "I'll see you tomorrow!" Which earned him a stern look from Madam Pince.

Trying to not blush at her reproach, Zacharias gathered up his books, determined not to let Harry's secrets get to him so much. If he couldn't be with Harry, he would go play Exploding Snap with Ernie and Justin.

That would be just _dandy_.

PLF

Neville watched the interaction between Harry and Smith with a sinking feeling in his stomach. Every day, he watched the two of them grow closer and closer, and every day, the feeling of wanting to rip Smith apart with his bare hands grew stronger.

People say that love is blind. For the longest time, Neville thought they were right. Neville's love for Harry—and he did love him, terribly so—blinded him to Harry's flaws. The lingering looks between him and those _Vanuli_ brothers of his. Harry trusted them right off the bat. He spent more time with them than he spent with Neville—Hell, than he spent with _Ron and Hermione_, his _best friends_. By the time Harry—and _Quatre—_confessed the whole story, Neville was already suspicious of their true relationship. They just had to confirm it. Harry was with Heero and Quatre, even while he was with Neville. And if he wasn't, it wouldn't be too long until it happened.

Neville loved Harry very much. Despite the lying and the cheating, Neville still loved Harry. And a part of him wanted to just ignore that Harry was going to leave—and soon—and go back to him. Beg Harry to take him back. But it wouldn't be any different. Neville would still be the insanely jealous boyfriend (he realized his flaw, and as much as he didn't like it, it wasn't about to change anytime soon), and it would, once again, hurt everyone involved. Especially Harry.

If only he could go back to when he and Harry first got together, Neville would do it all differently. Specifically, he would stick his fingers in his ears and hum loudly when Harry started to confess _anything_ that didn't involve Neville, strawberries and cream, or Quidditch. He would go back to how he was then—the happy, clumsy, lovable, Neville he always was, and Harry would take him back, and they would be together, and they would be happy, and nothing bad would happen between them.

But that would never happen, and Neville couldn't get Harry back. But Neville _could_ follow Harry's new boyfriend out of the library, trailing him to an empty corridor.

PLF

Someone was following him. Zacharias knew it, and he knew who was doing the following. Zacharias didn't stop. Instead, he lead his rival through several populated corridors, finally finding a nice empty one in which he could kick Longbottom's arse. Longbottom had been staring at him and Harry for the entire week, and it was beginning to piss Zacharias off. Zacharias liked to think he was hard to anger, but really, stalking was just going too far.

Zacharias drew his wand and turned around to find Longbottom's wand also drawn.

"Well, hello, _Neville_," Zacharias said, emphasizing the use of Longbottom's first name. "Fancy meeting you here. What do you want?"

"Smith," Longbottom said. "I want you to leave Harry alone."

Zacharias laughed. "Harry doesn't want to be left alone. I like him. He likes me. It's a good match."

"Yeah? Well, I—" Neville surged forward, stopping mere inches from Zacharias's face. He wasn't quite as tall as Zacharias, but he was a respectable height, reaching Zacharias's eyes. "I don't care." Neville shoved Zacharias. "Leave him alone, or you'll be sorry."

"_You_ leave him alone!" Zacharias said, pushing back. "When you were with him, all you did was hurt him. You had your chance, and you blew it. It's my turn now, and I haven't waited this long just to give it up!"

Longbottom's face got steadily more purple, and by the end of Zacharias's speech he did a very surprising thing for a pureblood wizard—he punched Zacharias square in the nose.

Zacharias saw red—literally, his nose was bleeding—and hit Longbottom back. He dropped his wand to the ground and lunged at Longbottom, knocking them both to the floor. The boys grappled with each other, neither having the upper hand for long. Zacharias finally got back on top and held Longbottom's wrists with one hand, punching him wherever he connected, drawing blood onto Longbottom's already bloody face—and onto his bloody hand.

Footsteps in the next corridor distracted Zacharias long enough for Longbottom to regain dominance. Longbottom punched Zacharias's stomach, taking his breath away. Crazy with hate, Zacharias pulled Longbottom's hair, his fist coming away with great chunks of it. Longbottom cried out, and Zacharias wrestled Longbottom under him. As Zacharias pulled his fist back to pummel Longbottom one last time, a hand from behind caught it.

Zacharias was bodily lifted from Longbottom, clawing and growling at his captor like a trapped dog. Neville tried to lunge at Zacharias, but Ernie caught him easily. Zacharias fought his captor—Justin, it seemed—just as Longbottom fought Ernie.

"This isn't over Smith!" Longbottom yelled, almost breaking out of Ernie's grasp.

"Yes, it is," Hannah Abbot—one of Zacharias's best friends and Extremely Strict!Head Girl—said, coming out from behind Justin.

The sight of Hannah, in all of her detention-giving glory, calmed down Zacharias enough that Justin let go of him. Ernie let Longbottom loose, too. Longbottom scowled at Zacharias and his friends, but outnumbered, he wisely chose to walk away.

When Longbottom was out of view, Hannah turned to Zacharias and smacked him upside the head. "What were you thinking?" she yelled at him.

"Um, I... He started it!" Zacharias said, knowing it was a weak argument.

Hannah looked at him with that Look that she always used when her friends were being idiots. "Really?" Ernie and Justin started sneaking down the corridor, taking the opportunity to get away before Hannah really got into it. "And what happened? Exactly?" Her voice dripped with sugar. It was terrifying.

"He followed me," Zacharias said, "and, um, he's been staring at me and Harry all week! It was annoying."

"So you decided that hitting him would make him go away?" Hannah asked.

"He hit me first!" Zacharias protested. "And he was saying all this shit about me staying away from Harry!"

"Ah," Hannah said, that one word saying more than anything else could. He had just told her exactly what she was waiting to hear. "I expected something like that would happen sooner or later." She patted him on the shoulder. "Just be happy it was me who found you this time and not one of the prefects or professors. I'll forget about it this time, but next time, I'll help you out."

"Thanks," Zacharias said, blushing. Hannah was the only person who could _ever_ make him blush. She was a good friend, and she completely supported his crush on Harry.

"No problem," Hannah said. "It's about time you got what you wanted, seeing as how you screwed it up enough the first time."

Zacharias's blush deepened. It wasn't his fault his first meeting with Harry went horribly, horribly wrong. Hopefully, it was so far behind them that Harry didn't quite remember what a jerk he was. Er, used to be.

PLF

Lacey Skeeter—second cousin of Rita Skeeter on her father's side—was a reporter for _The Sankian Star_, the local wizard newspaper, and the only witch reporter at Mr. Franz Hubert's sixteenth birthday gala. She didn't care about Hubert, of course, as he was a Muggle, and nobody really cared about Muggles except Muggleborns and other Muggles. Lacey was a pureblood—she would trace her lineage all they way back to Merlin's time. No, the reason Lacey actually showed up at this swank party was to see who would be escorting Queen Relena.

For the fast five political engagements that Queen Relena attended, she did not bring a date. In fact, the only member of her entourage to attend had always been the queen's personal bodyguard, the beautiful and mysterious Natasha. Normally, that wouldn't mean much , but ever since Queen Relena was accompanied by Duet Winner—not related to the W.E.I. Winners—to her own seventeenth birthday party, Lacey had become suspicious of Queen Relena's relationship to her bodyguard. If Lacey was right, the scoop would put her career in overdrive, and she'd never have to write the gossip column, _Letters to Lacey_, ever again.

PLF

Lillith winced at the loud music blaring out across the room, the result of a Sonorous Charm. She was, disgustingly, in a human club. A wizard club, but human all the same.

"Give me a double!" she shouted to the bartender as the band started up a new song. She lifted her glass to him, so he could see her drink. A Bloody Mary—hold the Mary.

A tall, dark man in a sweeping trench coat sat on the stool beside her, twirling around in his seat.

"What did you find, Azrael?" Lillith asked, stopping him mid-spin. She was beginning to get just a _little_ frustrated. "And where's Echo?" That girl got into trouble faster than untreated blood spoiled.

"She's with Rastafarian," Azrael said, flashing her a grin sure to show his enlarged eyeteeth. "He'll keep her out of trouble, for now." Azrael spun around, stopping as his mouth hit her ear. "You'll never believe what I'm going to tell you. It'll toss the Boss and his little Tease off their rockers."

"Just tell me!" Lillith snapped, growing tired of Azrael's game. She snatched her newly-filled glass of blood off the counter and downed it in one gulp. "You've got ten seconds." She couldn't wait to get out of this place.

"Okay, but—"

"One," she said, catching his eyes and giving him the Look that made him wither. She was his mother-in-darkness, his Maker, and he would do best to remember that.

"All right, all right. Just—"

"Two."

Azrael threw up his hands. "Fine! You know, you have no sense of theater, of _timing_. Why—"

"Thr—"

Azrael leaned in and whispered the news.

Lillith gasped in shock. "But how can that be?" she asked. "Who could've done such a thing? We should find that out, too, before we tell Quatre."

"I already know," Azrael boasted, eagerly. "It was Quatre's little brother."

"You mean, _Heero_ did such a horrible thing?"

"No, no," Azrael said. "Not Heero. The other one. Harry."

Lillith was glad she wasn't holding her glass, because she surely would have dropped it, vampiric reflexes or not.

Harry Potter had Turned You-Know-Who into a Vanuli?

PLF

"Are you _sure_ this is going to work?" Harry asked. He was sitting on his bed, and Heero sat beside him, holding a needle. A very large needle. Which he meant to jab through Harry's ear in just a few moments.

"Relatively sure," Heero said. "It'll definitely be worth it if it works, won't it?"

Harry and his brothers had just spent the past hour and a half modifying two pair of Extendable Ears. If they did it right, they would end up with a virtually invisible, long-range communication device. The first thing they—Harry—had done was charm the Ears to be wireless. It took all three triplets' magic, but eventually, they were able to get the range of the Ears to extend to fill all of Hogwarts and Hogsmeade. At least, they thought they had. They had no way to accurately test it. The final step, of course, was to disguise the Ears. Heero had the perfect idea to transfigure them into earrings, which would be overlooked as decoration _and_ close to their ears.

Quatre sat off to the side of Heero and Harry, laughing at Harry's reluctance to get his ear pierced.

Heero grabbed Harry's head and held it still. "Come on, Hare. It won't hurt." Heero grabbed his ear, and Harry felt a pleasant numbing sensation. He closed his eyes as Heero rushed forth with the needle, not opening them until the earring was in and his ear was healed.

Selune


	38. DDay

A/N: _Blah_ is telepathic speech.

Disclaimer: I do not own any things Harry Potter—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to the wonderful J. K. Rowling and whomever else she decides. I do not own anything Gundam Wing—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to (I think) Bandai and Sunrise.

Spoilers: This fic contains spoilers for books 1-5 of Harry Potter and all of the episodes of Gundam Wing. This fic does not include Endless Waltz.

Rating: NC17

Pairings: Neville/Harry, 2x1, Relena/OFC, OMCx4, Zacharias/Harry

Category: crossover, fantasy, general, drama

Author: Selune

Author's site: 

Summary: Two years ago, the One Year War ended. At this time, the five heroes—the Gundam pilots—disappeared from the Muggle world. Three of them—pilots 02, 03, and 05—reappeared shortly after in the Wizarding world, as students at Hogwarts School of Witchraft and Wizardry. Now, twenty months after the fact, Heero Yuy and Quatre Winner are coming to Hogwarts, and they're bringing all of their secrets with them. The world—especially one Harry Potter—will never be the same.

Peace, Love, and Family:

The Story of the Vanuli Three

Chapter 37: D-Day

Saturday morning

December 7, 197

8:03 AM

Gryffindor Tower

The blaring of the alarm clock woke up Heero. It wasn't that he _wanted _to get up so early on a Saturday, but he had so much to do to get ready for the Turning that getting up at a more decent hour—say, noonish—was practically impossible. Sighing, Heero turned off the alarm clock, miraculously getting it in one try.

_It's about time._

Heero started, turning back to the bed. He was sure he'd just heard Harry say something, but Harry was asleep. Just to be sure, Heero crawled back on the bed. Last night was Heero's turn to be in the middle, so he didn't have to peek over Quatre. Heero waved his hand in front of Harry's face—which wasn't very easy, as Harry's face was currently burrowed into Heero's pillow. There was no response. Heero poked Harry in the shoulder. Nothing, except some sleepy grumbling and a snort.

_The trolls are gonna eat me!_

Quatre. Heero went to the other side of the bed. Like Harry, Quatre was sound asleep. Huh. That was interesting.

_The bunnies are coming!_

That had definitely been Quatre's voice, but Quatre was asleep. And his lips hadn't moved.

Heero went to sit at the desk. Preparations could wait until Harry and Quatre woke up. They needed to figure out just why Heero seemed to be hearing their thoughts.

PLF

Relena Peacecraft woke as the morning sunlight streamed into her east facing room, causing the many crystal knicknacks to glitter. It was a disappointing awakening, because she woke alone. It was a rare thing for Relena to sleep alone—for any Vanuli, really—but last night, she and Tashpi had decided it would be better (read: less likely to get them caught) if they slept alone. So, for the first time since they became a couple, Tashpi slept in her own bed, and Relena slept alone.

Of course, the worst part about the whole thing was the lack of morning sex, which was Relena's favorite kind. Normally, they would wake early, so they could take their time. Kissing and caressing each other. As an added bonus, Relena was always in a much better mood when starting the day off right—with a couple of orgasms.

The lack of a morning orgasm made her mean, and she had to fall back her old pick-me-up: lots and lots of coffee. And she would actually have to _get out of bed_ to get that.

"Ooh-oo," Relena groaned, smacking the Barbie pink alarm clock. She turned it off—which wasn't her intention in the least—and was forced to get out of bed. She didn't want to, so she did the next best thing. She rolled.

"Oof," she groaned, as she landed on the plush pink carpeting. Slowly, she dragged herself to her knees. Then, holding onto the bed, pulled herself into a standing position. Kind of. More like a leaning position.

Groaning—again—Relena walked to her closet, dragging her feet. She picked out a skirtsuit—she didn't know what color, as her eyes were closed, and she couldn't see through her eyelids. Relena—eyes still closed—slowly walked to the bathroom, where the shower was running.

_Mm_, Relena thought, perking up at the thought of Tashpi, naked and soapy in the shower. _Maybe I can have that morning sex, after all._

PLF

Quatre sat cross-legged on Harry's bed, the curtains drawn and his head close to Harry. "So, what are we going to do about this?" he asked, much louder than he meant to.

"Shh!" Harry shushed him. Their other dorm mates were still asleep, and it just wouldn't do to wake them up. Especially Dean or Seamus, who knew nothing more than the rest of the school. At least, as far as the triplets were concerned.

_I know! I know!_ Quatre consciously thought to Harry, having followed his brother's thought process right along with him.

_What _are_ we going to do?_ Heero thought to his brothers. He'd had more time to get used to the idea that their modified Extendable Ears extended a lot farther than they were meant to.

"Well, we've," at Quatre's dirty look, Harry switched back to their telepathic link. _We know it's the earrings, so we can just take them off to get rid of it._

_Good idea,_ Quatre thought at him. He started to fumble with his earring—in the shape of a one; Harry's and Heero's were a two and a three, respectively—but Heero stopped him. Quatre waited for Heero to explain his action, but he didn't say—or think—anything to Quatre.

Heero's hand dropped, and Quatre fingered his earring again.

_—and this could be a big advantage to us._ Harry thought.

_Huh?_ Quatre thought. _What did I miss? Why couldn't I hear you just then?_

"You couldn't hear us?" Harry asked out loud. His eyes went wide as his hands covered his mouth. _Sorry. But really, what couldn't you hear, and why?_

_Hell if I know._ Quatre started to play with his earring again.

_Well,_ Heero thought, _maybe it's the...sition. It could...fering with the link._

Quatre let go of his earring, leaving it in the upright position. "You know," he said, deliberately out loud, "you just might be right."

PLF

Later morning, after the rest of their dorm mates were awake, and Heero went to prepare for Rosencrantz's Turning, Harry and Quatre were alone in their room. Harry was getting ready for his date with Zacharias, and Quatre was being very helpful by staying out of his way.

"What do you think of this shirt?" Harry asked, trying to ignore both the fact that Quatre was ignoring him and the fact that he knew Quatre was ignoring him because Quatre was thinking—very loudly, in fact—_I'm ignoring you_ in a sing-song voice.

_Well, don't bloody ignore me!_ Harry thought-yelled, earning himself a puzzled _Huh?_ from Heero, on the other side of the castle, and a snort from Quatre.

"Fine, fine," Quatre said, reverting back to normal speech. "I'll help you." Quatre put down his—Harry's—_Quidditch Weekly_ and stalked over to his bed. Pulling back the curtains, he unearthed a veritable mountain of clothes—jeans, tees, and sweaters, all mixed up together. Seemingly at random, though Harry just _knew_ that Quatre was using his Sight to see where everything was thrown down, Quatre picked out a pair of dark, frayed jeans, a white undershirt, and a dark blue sweater.

"Here," Quatre said, handing Harry the clothes. "The pants will look great on you, and the sweater will bring out the blue in you eyes."

"But I don't have any blue in my eyes," Harry said. His eyes were green. Just like his moth—just like Lily's.

"You do now," Quatre said, with forced nonchalance. "Go see for yourself."

Harry dropped the clothes and ran to the bathroom, to do just that. He knew—partially from Dorothy, but mostly from the random Ameneas Heero would perform in the halls at night after "tutoring" with Remus—that, usually, the more time twins spent together, the more alike they would become. Magically, physically, emotionally, everything. It normally began after the twins were affirmed as the Crown Princes or Princesses, but because Harry and his brothers were going to be crowned so late in their lives—a full decade past normal—it was most likely to begin as soon as a chance presented itself.

After some arguing—made especially weird without any of them saying a word—the triplets figured that was what happened with the Extendable Ears: Their linked magics took advantage of the hearing devices to throw Harry and his brothers into a ten-year advanced stage of telepathic communication in one night.

That was bad enough—though, thankfully, the link could be turned of by turning the earring upside down—but if the magic was already changing his physical form... Harry didn't even want to think about that. Fusion was not a word Harry ever wanted to think.

Harry walked over to the sinks as the third toilet on the left—the only one with a working lock and that flushed on the first try—flushed, jarring Harry from his own little world of weird. But only a little. He moved over to the next sink and began washing his hands when the person in the stall came up behind him.

"So, are you doing on your _date_ dressed like that?" It was Neville.

Harry resolutely looked down at the sink, refusing to rise to his ex's bait. He turned off the faucet and began to look for the hand towel. It was never in the same place, even with one of Dobby's charms on it.

"What? You're too good to even talk to me?" Neville spat. He came close to Harry but, wisely didn't touch him.

Harry sighed, finally finding the towel. "Don't do this to me, Neville. Please, not now," Harry said.

Harry looked into the mirror, Neville behind him. Neville had a cracked lip. Harry could see it perfectly—with eyes that were swiftly becoming more blue than green. He wasn't wearing his glasses, either. Harry turned his earring upside down, and his vision went blurry. His eyes returned to their original color, green as fresh-pickled toads.

Harry turned around. Neville was practically on top of him—definitely close enough for Harry to see him clearly. Harry shuddered when Neville stepped closer to him, putting his hands on Harry's shoulders. Neville kneaded his shoulders, and his eyes seemed to darken. Harry gasped when Neville started to lean forward, his lips quickly finding Harry's.

The kiss was slow and soft. Gentle. It was nothing like their last caresses, and Harry found himself returning the kiss. He brought his hands up behind Neville's neck and pulled Neville closer.

Harry lost himself in the kiss, just feeling Neville's lip on his, Neville's hands on his back, Neville's legs between his. Harry jumped up on the sink, pulling Neville between his spread legs. He balanced precariously on the rim, reveling in the familiar position.

This was his favorite way to make out—being able to feel his partner's erection on the inside of his thigh, his own erection pressed between their stomachs. Plus, the sink gave him extra height, so Zacharias didn't have to bend down quite so far.

Harry froze. Zacharias. Neville.

_Oh, God, what am I doing?_ he thought. _I'm with Zacharias now._

Harry pulled away from Neville and jumped off the sink. "I can't do this," he said, pushing Neville back just enough to squeeze between him and the sink.

Neville grabbed Harry's wrist as he passed by. "Yes, you can," Neville said, kissing Harry's hand. "Come back to me."

Harry stared at Neville. Rather, he stared at Neville's lips, which had begun bleeding sometime during their kissing. Neville left a bloody lip-print on his hand. Harry pulled his hand away and wiped it on his robe. "No. You don't want me. You just don't want me to be with anyone else."

"That's not true!" Neville protested, surging forward. For every forward step Neville took, Harry took two backward steps. "I love you, and I know you love me."

Harry stopped, letting Neville catch him. He ran his thumb over Neville's bloody lip. "I do love you," he said, "but that's not enough for you. It wasn't before, and it's not now. Nothing has changed, except now I'm interested in someone else, and you can't stand that."

"That's not true, Harry," Neville said. He was wearing his sad, puppy-dog expression that always made Harry give in. Except this time. "I admit, it does burn me up that you're dating Smith, but that just made me realize how much I love you and how much I miss you. I'm trying to do better. Really, I am."

Harry let his hand fall from Neville's face and stepped away. "It's not enough. I won't put myself through that again. I'm with Zacharias, now." He whispered that last part. Harry turned around and paused at the door. "Good-bye, Neville." Harry walked out of the bathroom, turning his earring right side up after almost tripping down the stairs.

PLF

Quatre sat on Harry's bed, holding the clothes he'd picked out for Harry. He would never admit it—after all, he was the older, calmer, wiser, more responsible brother—but this new development scared him shitless. Sure, being able to talk to Heero and Harry through their minds was incredibly cool and could be very useful when discussing sensitive information, but it just didn't feel right not being alone in his own head. And if he thought that way about a relatively minor invasion, how was he going to go through with Fusion?

Quatre knew Harry was afraid of it. Even before their new psychic abilities, it was easy to see the fear in Harry's eyes whenever they discussed it. That was one of the reasons they didn't talk about it much. Of course, Heero didn't want to Fuse, either. He didn't actually object to it, and Quatre knew that Heero would go through with it when the time came, but Heero didn't _want_ to Fuse. To do so would be to give up, not just himself, but Duo, as well. Duo was practically the most important person in Heero's life—sometimes, Quatre doubted the "practically." But that left Quatre as the only triplet not against Fusion.

Fusion could be a wonderful thing, Quatre knew. He'd talked to Aravu, the queen, and she had told him of how her two halves, Aruvi and Uralu, had been frightened before her Fusion, but how she never once regretted having done it. Being one with another person, actually becoming a different person together, she said, was the most breathtaking experience she had ever had. She was never lonely, like other people were, because she was never alone. She never had any outside lovers, like most other Vanuli, because sex with another could never compare to sex with herself. Fusion made Queen Aravu perfect, and it would make the triplets perfect, too.

A perfection Quatre might not want, anymore. But what he and Harry and Heero wanted didn't matter. The would turn eighteen, Fuse, become king, kill Voldemort and Dr. J, and then fuck like bunnies until they were pregnant. The order might vary, but all of that would happen. One way or another.

Should Quatre or his brothers refuse to Fuse, their kind would be in a full-scale panic—it would be breaking one of their highest laws: "And the most powerful Vanuli shall shall rule as one"—and they would deserve only the harshest punishment. Except, of course, banishing the triplets wouldn't get rid of the problem. Only their deaths or the birth of a more powerful Vanuli would release Quatre, Harry, and Heero from their familial obligation.

"Don't think of such things," Heero said, startling Quatre.

He had been so preoccupied with his own brooding that he hadn't heard Heero come in. "Don't pay any attention to me," Quatre sighed. "I was just thinking." Quatre realized he couldn't hear Harry's thoughts.

"You think too much," Heero said, slumping down next to Quatre. "And Harry's okay. He just turned off his earring. He'll be here in a bit." He kissed the back of Quatre's neck and pulled his arms loosely around Quatre. _Everything'll be okay, Kitten. We'll think of something._

"So, did you get everything prepared?" Quatre asked, ignoring Heero's thought.

"Yes," Heero said, pulling away from Quatre. "All I have to do now is go get my victim."

Quatre smiled. "Good, then. Do you want to wait for Harry before we go? We can drop him off at Hufflepuff."

"Sure," Heero said. He picked up the clothes Quatre was holding. "Is this what he's wearing?" _He's going to be upset when he gets here._

"If I can get him into them," Quatre said, confused. _Why?_

"He'll look good in them," Heero said. _For Smith _or_ Longbottom._

"What?" Quatre asked. What did Neville have to do with anything?

"He wants—" _Harry back,_ Heero finished as Dean and Seamus walked in the room.

_We'll finish this later,_ Quatre thought to Heero. Heero nodded, and the two of them sat there, silent in every way, waiting for Harry.

PLF

"Bye, Harry," Heero said, hugging his brother. Heero and Quatre were dropping off Harry at the Hufflepuff dorm entrance, so he could meet his date. He was actually wearing the clothes Quatre picked out for him, and with his new eye color—with all of their new eye colors—the sweater really complemented him. Of course, Harry wore his winter cloak over it, so Smith wouldn't see it until he and Harry actually go to their destination, wherever it may be.

Heero wasn't wearing his cloak, because he wasn't leaving the castle. He was going to the Slytherin dorms to pick up Daemon (Harry gave him the directions. How he knew them, Heero didn't want to know), and they were going to the Prefect's bathroom (again, Harry's knowledge) to begin the Turning ritual. Heero had spent practically all morning in there, setting up everything. He'd put a charm on the room to persuade people to stay away, and if someone didn't leave, water was set to flow between the cracks in the door and an "out of order" sign would appear. Hopefully, that would be enough to keep it unoccupied. If it wasn't, Heero would just have to get rid of the people in a different way.

"This should be it," Quatre said, stepping in front of a blank wall.

"Are you sure?" Heero asked, looking around. There were portraits elsewhere in the hall. Heero pointed to a few of them. "Wouldn't it be one of them?"

"No," Quatre said, looking down at a piece of paper. "Harry said it should be right here. And he said there wasn't a portrait."

"Okay." Heero shrugged his shoulders. If Harry said, then Harry said. "What's the password?"

Quatre looked down at the paper. "Harry didn't say."

"So, how're we supposed to get in?" Heero asked. "Well, how are _you_ supposed to get in?" Heero corrected himself. He figured he could always Change into a bug or something and crawl through a crack. Of course, he'd be naked when he Changed back, and that might offend some first year's delicate sensibilities, but he could risk that. Quatre, though, didn't like Changing any more than necessary, even with a catalyst. For Quatre, "necessary" meant "Oh, look at that huge boulder flying right at me." Of course, Heero could always Change, crawl into Slytherin, Change back, and let Quatre in, getting his clothes back in the process. Heero opened his mouth to say all of this, but Quatre beat him to it.

"What about _'zhikani' _?" Quatre said. A door appeared in the wall, cracking open slightly.

" Open sesame' ?" Heero asked as Quatre grabbed the door.

"Well, it worked, didn't it?" Quatre answered.

Heero didn't say anything and followed his brother into enemy territory.

PLF

Quatre stepped into the Slytherin common room for the first time. Looking around, he was not impressed. The ceiling was low, and everything was too dark. In Quatre's opinion, Wizard lighting was far behind Muggle lighting, for no apparent reason. He knew the dim, dreary torchlights could easily be replaced with brighter, more cheery lighting, all with the help of a couple of lighting charms. Quatre knew of exactly 32.46 lighting charms that would outshine even Muggle fluorescent lights (several of the charms were unfinished, resulting in a fraction of a charm). But for some reason, wizards and witches liked being in the dark.

"Quatre," Dorothy said, coming over to him. "What took you so long?" She hugged him and Heero, her little shadow following along obediently.

"There's been a new development," he said. He, Heero, and Harry, not wanting to hear every little thought the other had, had played around with their earrings. Apparently, turning it 45° to the left made it so they could only hear the thoughts if they were shouted really loud. They kept all the same physical changes, though, so Harry was going on his date sans glasses.

Dorothy nodded and turned to the younger Slytherin girl. "You can go now, Molly," she said.

Molly nodded and ran off to a table full of younger Slytherins. She immediately sat at the head of the table, a fifth year boy giving up his seat to her.

"I'm grooming her to take over, next year," Dorothy said, pride evident in her voice. "Once I'm gone, there's going to be a power vacuum. Hopefully, Molly can fill that space. She'll be such a good little tyrant."

"Like you?" Quatre asked.

Dorothy turned back to him. "Of course," she said. She looked over Quatre's shoulder. "Where's Heero?"

Quatre, startled—when did Heero leave?—looked over the whole Slytherin common room. Using their telepathic link, Quatre found him right as Dorothy said, "Oh. He's found Duo."

PLF

Relena smiled as she walked into the breakfast room. It was smaller than the formal dining room, and Relena usually took her meals there.

"Morning, Natasha," Relena said, a satisfied grin on her face. "Milliardo, Lucrezia." Relena's brother and his wife, as higher up members of the Peacecraft family, also lived in Sank Palace. Their personal bodyguards were usually there, too, but for some reason, this morning, they were conspicuously absent. "Where are Bo and Samantha?" Samantha was Zech's Naiyama from way back when, and Bo was her only son. Their real names, being non-human, like Tashpi's, were Samanoila and Boray.

"Something's happened," Lucy said, and for the first time, Relena noticed the solemn look on her family's faces.

"What? What happened?" Relena looked over to Tashpi—who should be in a very pleasant mood, indeed, after some mind-blowing sex.

Tashpi opened her mouth to speak, but hesitated. This frightened Relena, because Tashpi _never_ hesitated. If she wanted to say something, she'd say something, damnit, unless it was private, and then she'd wait until they were alone, and _then_ say it.

"Tash?" Relena asked, softly. _Please, let someone be dead._ Relena pleaded. _Or war, maybe? That would be fine with me._ The only other thing that could silence her family would be that other thing she really, really didn't want to happen.

Tashpi looked down at her plate and shook her head. She pushed a newspaper over to Relena. "I should have checked the rooms better."

Hands shaking, Relena turned the paper over to the front page. Words leapt out at her: _Queen Relena and Her Lesbian Lover_. And in smaller letters: _How long has this clandestine affair been kept from the public?_ Beside the article was a color picture of Relena and Tashpi from last night. It was a wizard picture. Relena stared for several minutes as she repeatedly sank into Tashpi's lap and passionately kissed her.

"Okay," Relena squeaked, looking up from the paper. "What are we going to do?"

"Hope to Hell that you can get to Hogwarts before Bo gets to the queen," Milliardo said.

Selune


	39. Preparations

A.N—The word "shol-va" is not mine. I have blatently stolen it from the "Stargate" franchise. (the movie, SG-1, and now Atlantis.) Also, I use it in a slightly different manner. In Stargate, Teal'c is a shol-va—a Jaffa traitor, who has turned against his "gods."

Disclaimer: I do not own any things Harry Potter—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to the wonderful J. K. Rowling and whomever else she decides. I do not own anything Gundam Wing—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to (I think) Bandai and Sunrise.

Spoilers: This fic contains spoilers for books 1-5 of Harry Potter and all of the episodes of Gundam Wing. This fic does not include Endless Waltz.

Rating: R

Pairings: Neville/Harry, 2x1, Relena/OFC, OMCx4, Zacharias/Harry

Category: crossover, fantasy, general, drama

Author: Selune

Author's site: 

Summary: Two years ago, the One Year War ended. At this time, the five heroes—the Gundam pilots—disappeared from the Muggle world. Three of them—pilots 02, 03, and 05—reappeared shortly after in the Wizarding world, as students at Hogwarts School of Witchraft and Wizardry. Now, twenty months after the fact, Heero Yuy and Quatre Winner are coming to Hogwarts, and they're bringing all of their secrets with them. The world—especially one Harry Potter—will never be the same.

Peace, Love, and Family:

The Story of the Vanuli Three

Chapter 38: Preparations

Daemon looked suspiciously at Heero, who was undressing. "Why are we in the Prefect's bathroom?" he asked, averting his eyes as Heero took off his last stitch of clothing. A quiet splash alerted Daemon to Heero's climbing into the Olympic-sized bathtub.

"Get in, Daemon," Heero said, making more splashing noises.

Daemon gave up and looked at Heero. "Just tell me _why_ we need to be naked, together, in there. I would like to have a nice, fool-proof answer in case your boyfriend finds out about this." Maxwell could be a very jealous person, just never when Heero was around to see it. "And why is the water pink?"

Heero frowned. "More red than pink," he said absent-mindedly. "It's tradition. Now get naked, and we can begin." A pause. "Oh, and I talked to Duo about this. He understands."

Daemon sighed and started taking off his clothes. He sincerely doubted Duo's "understanding," but Heero seemed to know what he was doing. The last time Daemon had ignored a plan of Heero's, well.... Daemon was just glad they'd gotten past it.

Daemon laid all of his clothes in a pile and slid into the pink water. "Ew." The water was thick and gloppy. Daemon pulled a hand out to see it covered in red slime. "What _is_ this?"

Heero swam over to Daemon and took Daemon's hand in his. He threaded their hands together. "It's the Blood of the Ancestors," he said. Daemon blanched, and Heero quickly continued. "Not their actual blood, of course, but just a representation. All people about to undergo a Turning must be bathed in the Blood. It makes the Turning easier, and it makes the Vanuli ready to accept the Turned into his or her family. If we didn't do this, but I still Turned you, you would be labeled a sholva—an enemy of the family—and it would be my duty to kill you."

Daemon swallowed. "Okay, then." Daemon made a mental note, _Next time Heero wants me to do something weird, I'm just going to do it. No questions asked._ "What do I need to do?"

Heero smiled and grabbed a loofah off the rim of the tub. "Just turn around and let me wash you."

Daemon was only too happy to oblige.

PLF

Relena hurriedly rustled through her closet, grabbing clothes and flinging them into her suitcase with no regard for their pressed, wrinkle-free state or coordination with the other packed items. Ordinarily, this sort of action would be considered quite heinous by Relena and all who knew her, as she was normally a very pristine, put-together young woman. However, as she was currently in a life-or-death situation—literally—she decided that acting a little out of character was not a big deal.

"Do you want to take these, too?" Lucy asked.

Relena turned to find the teddy bear Heero had given her a while back. She took it from her sister-in-law and nodded. "I'll just put him in with the rest. You should sit down."

Lucy was about halfway through her pregnancy—she was due on Valentine's Day—and ordinarily enough, was big as a house. Or two. Milliardo was usually seen hovering around his wife to make sure she never had to do anything more strenuous than walk (and even that was a harshly disputed debate between the couple), but with the current "situation," he was doing damage control at a double-press conference with both Muggle and wizard journalists. If that horrid woman, Lacey Skeeter, showed up, however, Relena knew for damned sure that Milly would have her kicked out, post haste.

Tashpi walked out of the bathroom, holding a small bag and two cat collars. "I've gotten everything in there," Tashpi said.

Relena nodded and turned to Lucrezia. She took the brooch off her suit and gave it to her sister-in-law. "You know the code word, right?" Lucy nodded. Relena reached down and hugged her friend, kissing her on the forehead. "I'll see you in a little while."

Lucrezia was going to hold onto the portkey and give it to Milliardo when he returned. Because she was so far along in her pregnancy—and still human, too—it was much too dangerous for her to use the device. Occasionally, portkeying would result in an a miscarriage. It didn't happen very often, but none of them were willing to take that risk.

"Be careful," Lucy said.

Relena nodded.

"Are you ready?" Tashpi asked.

Relena nodded again and started stripping. She did so quickly and efficiently, placing each item in her suitcase. She shrunk the suitcase and placed it on a ring on the pink cat collar. Then, she gave her wand to Lucy. Milliardo would be bringing it later. Beside Relena, Tashpi did the same thing, making sure the hair pin was still in her possession.

They couldn't use it anywhere inside the palace, because of the wards, so they were going to have to go outside of the castle walls. Normally, this wouldn't be much of a problem, but the scandal that was was sending them running was also trying to keep them locked inside. Hordes of journalists—those who hadn't been invite to Milliardo's press conference—swarmed outside the gates. Relena and Tashpi needed to remain unseen, if they wanted to get out of the castle without alerting them. So, ingeniously, they would Change into their cat forms and walk out in broad daylight. There was already a palace-wide "leave the cats alone" rule in place, so they should be able to leave with minimal difficulties.

Relena shrunk down to her cat form and waited patiently as Lucy put the collar on her. She nuzzled Lucy's hand and licked her with a scratchy tongue in thanks. She waited as Lucy did the same to Tashpi, and the two trotted out into the hall.

PLF

Harry stood on his toes and—with the help of Zacharias—kissed his date square on the lips.

"Mm, that'll warm you up," Zacharias said, and Harry fell back into place beside him, their gloved hands clasped tightly together.

Harry shook his head and leaned in closer to Zacharias. "You're so corny."

"Shh." Zacharias made a shushing motion. "You'll ruin my reputation."

Harry shivered from the cold. "You're reputation _deserves_ to be ruined. You do know what people say about you, don't you?"

Zacharias stopped. "Hufflepuff Malfoy." He shivered, too—perhaps not from the cold. "Just because we happen to have the same features—blond hair, light eyes, and a little on the pale side—"

"Not to mention the nose and height," Harry helpfully put in.

Zacharias dropped Harry's hand, and his hands immediately went to cover his nose. "What's wrong with my nose?" he asked.

Harry rolled his eyes. "Nothing. It's cute." Harry playfully batted his eyes. Baiting Zacharias could be so much fun, sometimes. "I like it, and I have wonderfully good taste." Harry paused dramatically. "Of course, the comparison with Malfoy doesn't have a thing to do with your appearance, seeing as how you're not an albino ferret."

Harry turned away from Zacharias, walking a few paces as he let Zacharias think on that.

"Wait! What do you mean by that?"

Harry smiled and kept walking, albeit at a slower pace. Just a few minutes, and they'd be in Hogsmeade.

PLF

It was a Hogsmeade weekend, and that always meant one thing back at Hogwarts. It was empty, as everyone third year and up rushed about from Honeydukes to Gladrags to Weasely's Wizard Wheezes to The Three Broomsticks to (Merlin, help them) Madam Puddifoot's, and everywhere in between, past, and to the side. This also meant, of course, that most dorm rooms—most Houses, even—were empty.

For this particular day, of this particular month, in this particular year, this did not mean the second boy's dorm of the Slytherin seventh years'. This dorm, as fate may have it, housed four boys, two of whom complied with tradition and were currently on dates in Hogsmeade, one of whom didn't comply with tradition so much as he was still in the castle (naked, by now, and soapy), and the last of whom threw tradition completely out the window, stomped on it, then set it on fire. Said student, who happened to be one Duo Maxwell, ex-Gundam pilot, human boyfriend of a Vanuli prince (who was also naked and soapy and _naked_ by now), and all-around Slytherin Extraordinaire.

Duo lay on his bed and fumed about his predicament. He'd had all term to think on it, but even after hours of thinking and thinking and thinking, he still couldn't decide on a definite conclusion, and was thus at a loss of what to do. This predicament, of course, involved his boyfriend in the most major of ways—Heero _was_ the problem.

Heero had _always_ been the problem, from the first moment they met. Duo had shot Heero, and the rest, as they say, was history. It took months of Duo's naturally bubbly personality to wear down Heero's icy facade and find the actual person behind it. More of Duo's strength and sweat and love went to Heero than he ever thought would be necessary, but it had all paid off when he got captured, and instead of killing him, Heero rescued him. For the Heero of that time, that might as well have been a statement of everlasting love and devotion.

After that, everything was good for them. Sure, they had their ups and downs. The war pulled them apart, threw them back together, and threw them apart more times than Duo was willing to count. But the times they were together.... Oh, they were magic. Duo loved being around Heero, and he knew Heero felt the same way, even if he never voiced it.

Which was pretty much the problem, now that Duo thought about it. That New Year's Eve, Duo had been happier than he ever was before or since. He had Heero—in every way possible, finally—only to wake up in the morning to find that he lost him.

January 1, AC 196 was the worst day of Duo's life. Worse than the destruction of the Maxwell church (and all of its inhabitants), worse than Solo's death, worse than every day spent as a prisoner of OZ combined. That morning, Duo woke to find Heero missing from the bed. It was fine, though, Duo wasn't worried. During those days (but no longer), Heero was a light sleeper and an early riser. Besides, all of Heero's stuff remained in the room—even his clothes. More importantly, his laptop.

Duo got up from the bed and started to look for Heero. After an hour or so—they _were_ in a mansion, after all—Duo hadn't found Heero. And Quatre was missing, too. It didn't take much detective work to figure out that they left together, especially after Quatre's Healer sister's evasive answers and abnormal flightiness.

It took time, but eventually, Duo came to terms with the fact that Heero left him for Quatre, the annoying, little demon-child in an angel mask. Duo finished (started) his fifth year in Beauxbatons, where he lost himself in beautiful girls, and even more handsome boys. He never really found himself, after that.

Duo transferred to Hogwarts (along with Trowa and Wufei, the only people he could find himself to trust) at the beginning of his sixth year, after hearing about You-Know-Who's resurrection. Trowa, with his cunning intellect and ability to fool people (he was a _spy_ in _OZ _working under _Colonel Une_!) was a shoe-in for Slytherin. And Wufei's almost obsessive need to learn any and everything after so long as a warrior made him perfect for Ravenclaw. By then, the ice around Duo's heart had frozen him so much that the Sorting Hat would not inflict him on any of the other houses, so he became a true Slytherin.

Funnily enough, the Hat said that, at one time, Duo was the perfect candidate for Hufflepuff. His entire part in the war was for revenge on the deaths of his loved ones—not from some stupid Gryffindor bravery, but from the loyal feelings of wanting justice for his family.

But the old Duo was gone, and the new Duo stood taller and straighter than a hundred generations of Malfoys. He took House pride to an insane extent, going so far as to not even deign to speak with members of other Houses (with the exception of Wufei), including teachers. He had gotten in so much trouble for that that had house points still been in effect, Slytherin would have been three digits in the red.

Duo tried to reconcile his new self with his old, but he couldn't. They were vastly different. Two entirely different people with completely different goals, save one: Heero. No matter who he was or what he was doing, Duo never lost his love for Heero. It turned to hate many times—after all, love and hate are two sides to the same coin—especially in the dead of winter, at night, when he _should_ have been cuddling up to Heero after a session of mind-blowing, double-joint-bending sex.

Duo had almost put Heero out of his mind, only weeks away from completely getting over him, when Heero had the audacity to show up on the Hogwarts train. It threw Duo for a loop, and he'd never quite recovered.

All term, Duo watched Heero watching him. It was obvious that Heero had changed, the most obvious being his command of magic. The second was his personality. In twenty short/long months, Heero's entire person did a 180. He looked healthier than Duo had ever seen him—not that Heero had ever looked sickly. Not even, apparently, when he was creeping towards Death's door. Heero was _happy_, and it hurt Duo terribly, so he tried, at every opportunity, to hurt Heero back. He spat back Heero's kisses, spurned him, and tore him down at every opportunity.

And yet, when Heero crashed to the floor at the Halloween Ball, Duo's heart jumped into his throat. Seeing Heero, so small and broken and bloody, lying on the floor like some spoiled child's thrown doll, the only thought Duo had was, _Please, let him be okay._

That incident taught Duo about the fragility of life and spurred him to forgive Heero and take him back. Which brought them five weeks into the present, where he and Heero were now. The feelings—the urgency—brought on by that horrible episode were slowly fading, and all Duo was left with was this throbbing pain in his heart. Despite all reason (and Heero's thorough and heart-wrenching explanations), Duo still harbored ill feelings toward Heero.

Heero had left him, with no warning and no word. He put Duo through several levels of Hell, and made Duo question everything they ever did together. Everything Heero said—especially declarations of love. It drove Duo to new levels of insecurity. He didn't know if he could ever really forgive Heero, truly.

And now this morning, everything was thrown in his face, again. Heero's future was not with Duo. He would leave Duo, again, and all of Duo's former suspicions about his relationship with Quatre would all be realized. But most importantly, Duo would, once again, be alone and without Heero. They had that hanging over their heads—and it would continue on it's swing for the entirety of their relationship, until Heero left.

Duo managed to forget it, most of the time. To put it in the back of his head, lock it up tight, and pretend it wasn't there. But when anything involving Vanuli or prophecies or Dr. J was mentioned—anything involving all the secrets Heero had kept from him, really—it brought it all crashing back. And this morning, when they'd talked (fought) about Heero's relationship/Turning (whatever that was) with/of Daemon, Duo almost lost it.

He wished they could just go back to the way they were before, but they couldn't. Duo thought back to their earlier conversation, right after they both decided to drop the Daemon issue.

_Duo and Heero were in the room alone, Heero looking away from Duo. Both of them had red, bloodshot eyes and tear tracks down their faces. They would fix it before anyone saw them, but for now, it was fine._

_"You've changed," Duo said, finally getting it out there. _

_Heero chuckled and turned around. "I'm not the only one." They stood about five feet apart, neither one actually looking at the other, but well within seeing range._

_"What happened to us?" Duo asked, at a loss for what to say. He didn't even want to hear Heero's answer. His _explanations_ of why all of this wasn't his fault, really, and how it was all just bad circumstances._

_"Fate, bad luck, bad timing, J," Heero said, fulfilling Duo's prophecy (another think Duo _hated_ about this new Heero—and all prophesiers, in fact). "Me." At last! He was taking some responsibility. "I should have told you I was sick from the moment I knew, I just.... I just couldn't stand to see that look on your face."_

_"What look?" Duo asked. Heero had never before actually explained his whole reason for not just admitting to Duo that he was deathly ill. Which, as the root of all of their problems, was something Duo felt he needed to know._

_"The one that says, 'You're so pitiful,' and 'You're pathetic,' and 'I feel so _sorry_ for you.' I couldn't stand it if you pitied me. Now or then."_

_"I loved you—I love you," Duo said. It was true, despite all of his other feelings. "Why couldn't you just trust me enough to know that I could never pity you. You especially, of all of us, I could never pity. You were the best of us."_

_"Can't you see?" Heero said. "I couldn't let you see me as any less than I already was—"_

_"Less?" Duo asked. "You were less than no one. You were more ready to lay down your life for the cause, more than any of us. You were the fastest, smartest, bravest—"_

_"I had to be!" Heero interrupted. "A wave of a wand was all the rest of you needed to beat me at any of those things! I was a Squib, less than the lowliest of Muggles, because there was magic all around me, and not only could I not use any of it, but it was killing me! That which made you better, made me worse."_

_Duo crossed the divide and grabbed Heero's arms. "None of that would have mattered to me, Heero. I loved you. All that mattered to me was you—not your strengths or weaknesses."_

_"It mattered to me." Heero collapsed against Duo—something he never would have done before. "You were so strong, and I was so weak. I didn't deserve you, and I thought if you knew just how weak I was, you would realize that and leave me. I couldn't bear the thought of that."_

_"So you kept it a secret, and this is what became of it," Duo said, tightly squeezing Heero._

_"The best laid plans..." Heero trailed off. _

"Of mice and men," Duo muttered under his breath. Perhaps if Heero's plan had worked, none of this would have happened.

Duo's stomach rumbled and, looking at the time, decided to go the the Great Hall for Saturday brunch.

PLF

"And so _Heero _said this, and _I_ said that, and by the time any of us had figured it all out, it was about time to leave."

Dorothy laughed as she pushed open the door to the busiest store in all of Hogsmeade—Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. Her immediate urge after Quatre's story was to strip him naked and check him over for any bumps or bruises, but they were in a very public place, so she decided it could wait. Besides, the last time she'd done that, Heero had been mad at her for weeks afterwards.

"I'm sure it will be fine," she reassured Quatre. He was bound and determined to see this as a bad thing. "Think of how good your test scores will be." Dorothy picked up an innocent-looking knick-knack. It barked and slobbered all over her hand. "Oh. Ew." She set it back down.

"Why, Dorothy Mariette Catalonia, I do believe you just suggested we _cheat_," Quatre said, raising his hand to his chest in mock-appall. He paused. "I didn't even _think_ about that. It'll be great."

Dorothy smiled indulgently at him and patted him on the head. She smoothed down Quatre's hair, which was messier than normal. "Of course, it will. Now, lets find something dangerous before we leave."

Pansy Parkinson and Millicent Bulstrode had been bothering Molly lately, and Dorothy didn't take too kindly to that. Sure, Dorothy ordered and bossed Molly around, but that didn't mean anyone else could. Molly was _hers_, and everybody else better just leave that little girl alone. Dorothy would start out Parkinson and Bulstrode with just a little warning. If they were too stupid to stop after that, well, Dorothy certainly wasn't responsible for what she would be forced to do.

Smiling evilly, Dorothy grabbed Quatre's hand and led him into the throng of customers. "C'mon, Quat. Let's find something fun."

PLF

Quatre looked nervously at Dorothy as they exited Weasley's Wizard Wheezes. He wasn't sure what exactly Dorothy bought—except for the "table swamp" he saw on one of the packages before the clerk (not red-haired, for once) shoved it in a bag—but the twinkling in her eyes was enough to unnerve anyone.

"What are you going to do with that?" he asked, hoping that whatever it was had nothing to do with him, Heero, or Harry.

"Oh, just a little something," Dorothy said, patting the bag. "I'm just going to teach certain people a certain something." She grinned when Quatre looked at her in horror. "Certain _female_ people."

Quatre breathed a sigh of relief. Whatever it was would not infiltrate his dorm room, at least.

"So who are you teaching this—damnit!" Quatre tripped, falling to the ground.

"Are you okay?" Dorothy asked, worry evident in her voice. She dropped to her knees beside Quatre and lifted his head, looking for injuries.

"I'm fine," Quatre said, getting back on his feet. "Just embarrassed." He wiped his the dirt from his hands onto his robe. "And dirty." A cat bounded away from him.

"Damned cat," Dorothy said, helping him to wipe himself off.

Quatre sighed. "Let's go on back to the castle, okay?"

Dorothy nodded, and they started back to Hogwarts.

PLF

Relena screeched as Quatre almost flattened her. _Well, that didn't work._ She started to follow them but when Dorothy picked up a rock and threatened to throw it, she decided a different approach was probably better.

Relena—in full kitty form—lifted her nose to sniff out Harry or Heero.

PLF

Harry laughed, his face flushed from his drink—butterbeer with just a touch of Firewhiskey—and embarrassment.

Zacharias had just finished telling him what mischief Hufflepuffs got into while Harry and his fellow Gryffindors (and one Ravenclaw) were off saving the world, finally turning Harry from the subject of Zacharias's resemblance to Malfoy. The story itself wasn't enough to make him blush, but that (with stern admonishments about his yearly near-death experiences), coupled with Zacharias's hand placement, turned Harry's face as red as a tomato.

The two—after much discussion—had finally decided to go to the Hog's Head. Not many students went there, and the décor was much less vomit-inducing than Madam Puddifoot's. Plus, Aberforth, the owner, was Professor Dumbledore's brother and had a soft spot for all of the former members of the D.A., which had disbanded upon Remus's return as the DADA professor.

"And that's how Susan burnt off her eyebrows?" Harry asked, laughing. It was a manly laugh—maybe even a deep chuckle. In no way was it a drunken giggle caused by the maybe-more-than-a-drop of Firewhiskey in his drink.

Zacharias laughed—also _not _a giggle—andn leaned in to whisper to Harry. "That cat's been staring at us for _ages_! Do you reckon it's McGon—McGona—the Gryffindor lady?"

"Shh!" Harry hissed, though there was no one around to hear them. They sat at the very back of the room, in a corner table far away from everybody. "Prof—Professor McGona—Micky is at Hogwarts. Where is this "cat"?"

As soon as Harry said that, the cat—little more than a kitten, really—sprang onto their table, upsetting the balance and spilling both drinks into Harry's lap—along with their older, empty mugs.

"Ew!" Harry said, jumping up and grabbing napkins to wipe himself off. "Stupid cat, spilling stuff all over me." Harry continued to wipe himself off, griping the entire time. The cat jumped from the table and began winding its way between Harry's legs. Harry about fell down and started cursing the cat. He picked it up—about to toss it away—but he looked it in the face. It was vaguely familiar. Harry saw the pink collar.

With disbelief, Harry brought the cat up to his face. "Relena?"

The cat purred and nuzzled his neck.

Selune


	40. The Consequence of Love

Disclaimer: I do not own any things Harry Potter—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to the wonderful J. K. Rowling and whomever else she decides. I do not own anything Gundam Wing—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to (I think) Bandai and Sunrise.

Spoilers: This fic contains spoilers for books 1-5 of Harry Potter and all of the episodes of Gundam Wing. This fic does not include Endless Waltz.

Rating: R

Pairings: Neville/Harry, 2x1, Relena/OFC, OMCx4, Zacharias/Harry

Category: crossover, fantasy, general, drama

Author: Selune

Author's site: 

Summary: Two years ago, the One Year War ended. At this time, the five heroes—the Gundam pilots—disappeared from the Muggle world. Three of them—pilots 02, 03, and 05—reappeared shortly after in the Wizarding world, as students at Hogwarts School of Witchraft and Wizardry. Now, twenty months after the fact, Heero Yuy and Quatre Winner are coming to Hogwarts, and they're bringing all of their secrets with them. The world—especially one Harry Potter—will never be the same.

Peace, Love, and Family:

The Story of the Vanuli Three

Chapter 39: The Consequence of Love

"Relena?" Harry said again, as the cat nuzzled him and purred. "I guess you must be." Harry sobered quickly. There was only one reason his cousin would be here, and it wasn't to eat, drink, and be merry.

"Harry," Zacharias said, moving behind him so that his breath played across Harry's neck, "why are you talking to the cat?"

_Shit!_ Harry thought. _How am I going to explain this?_ Harry turned in his seat, pretending to look at his watch. "I-I have to go," he said, trying not to stutter too very badly. "I have to help my brothers with something."

"I'll go with you," Zacharias said, quickly.

Harry could tell Zacharias didn't believe him for a second. "You can't!" Zacharias's eyes widened, and Harry kicked himself. He must think Harry was trying to get rid of him. _Way to go, dumbass._ "It's just—it's family business, and we can't really have other people there."

"That's okay," Zacharias said. His eyes were narrowed, belying his words. "But I wouldn't be a gentleman if I didn't at least walk you back."

_Shit!_ Harry cursed again. He didn't know what to say to distract Zacharias away from that, so he leaned over and snogged the daylights out of his boyfriend. "Youdon'treallyneedtoIcangetbackbymyself," Harry said all in one breath. He scooped Relena back in his arms and ran out of the Hog's Head before Zacharias could realize what happened. Harry would deal with it later.

Taking Relena, Harry went into the alley between the Hog's Head and Madam White's. She jumped out of his arms, and before he could check that no one was looking, she Changed back into her human form.

"Oh, ew!" Harry exclaimed, covering her from his sight with his hand. Relena was naked. As in, completely, one hundred percent nude—not even a sock on. Even the pink collar was gone, broken in the Changing process.

"Yeah, yeah. Get over it," Relena said. She bent down to retrieve her collar. "You know, there are a _lot_ of people just _dying_ to see me naked." She shut up, and Harry could see her thinking through that. Somebody just _might_ die as a result of seeing her naked.

"Never mind," Harry said, a little too harshly. "I'm not one of them." He took of his robe, just remembering that his cloak was still in the Hog's Head. "Put on my robe." He handed the robe to Relena and started shivering.

"Thanks," Relena said, her own shivers becoming less pronounced. "I left Tashpi at the Shrieking Shack. Hopefully, no one's bothered her, but we need to get to her soon."

"Okay," Harry said. "Just let me get my cloak." He didn't dare go back into the bar. "_Accio_ cloak." He waited just a few seconds before the cloak flew into his hands. "Let's go."

Harry tried to ignore the stares as he and Relena exited the alleyway. Sure, he was walking with a barefoot girl wearing only a cloak and robe—_hi_scloak and robe. And sure, the girl was most definitely _not_ a Hogwarts student, but still, people could be so rude!

Relena grabbed hold of Harry's hand and threaded their fingers together. They weren't as close to one another as she and Heero or she and Quatre were, but she was his cousin, and Harry loved her nevertheless.

"Shouldn't be too much longer now," he said, just for the sake of making noise. Besides, he was sure that Hogsmeade looked different while in human form that in cat, and Relena wouldn't be too familiar with looking at it in the former state.

"I'm afraid," Relena admitted right before stepping off the main path to the Shrieking Shack.

Harry squeezed her hand. "Me, too."

They smiled at one another, but they came out more like grimaces.

"There she is," Relena said when she looked back at the road. She let go of Harry's hand and ran to get Tashpi. Relena gathered Tashpi—still in cat form—to her chest and stroked Tashpi's fur.

"Let's go to the others," Relena said, walking back to Harry. She still held Tashpi as close as physically possible. Tashpi was dusty, her fur matted, and she was getting Harry's cloak quite dirty. He didn't mind much—Dobby could get it out in two seconds flat.

Harry nodded to Relena, and they began making their way back to Hogwarts. _How am I going to get Heero and Quatre?_ he thought.

With a start, Harry remembered the earrings. He turned his right-side up again, and mentally yelled to his brothers. _Quatre! Heero!_

PLF

Morgan LeFey the Seventh, current Crown Princess and Head of LeFey House, lay in the Blue Room of the Crystal Palace. It was in Haven, the original home of all Vanuli, and as such an important person in the Vanuli hierarchy, she had the room all to herself.

As its name would suggest, everything in the Blue Room was blue. The hard, crystal walls were a deep blue, almost purple. All of the furniture—including the root sofa upon which Morgan lay—was a much lighter blue, like the color of the sky in the main time pocket. All of the plants were blue, including the grape tree (which grew exclusively in Haven) which bent down its limbs whenever Morgan wanted a bite.

Morgan closed her eyes, reveling in the feeling of so much luxury. She wouldn't have it for much longer. Soon, she would be just another noble.

Morgan sighed. She didn't want to give up her power. Why should she have to? After all, she had over a hundred year's experience at the various positions. Her sons were just babies, still wet behind the ears. And they were raised by humans—Nelat by Muggles! They didn't know how to lead the Vanuli people.

_Ah, well._ The tree bent down again, and Morgan tore off a grape with her teeth.

There was a knock at the door, and Morgan sighed. The one thing she wouldn't miss were all of the toadies who couldn't wipe their asses without her express written consent.

"Come in!" she called out, arranging herself on the sofa to best display her features. Like many Vanuli, she preferred to wear no clothes and plenty of clinky jewelry.

The door opened, and two men came into the room. The older one, Magathis, was her contemporary and a member of the Kordel House. A strong house, despite the scandal under which they still lived. The second one Morgan didn't know, though she could tell he was of the Mordal House. Great-grandnephew of her late Naiyama, Besatir.

"What business do you have?" Morgan asked in her most bored voice. The men bowed—never as far as they would for the queen, though. For Queen Aravu, Morgan's mother, noses touched the floor during bows.

"You may rise," she said. The men stood up. "Now, state your business."

"Your Highness," Magathis said, "it has recently come to the attention of the Enforcers... Well, it's probably better to just show you. Boray, give the Princess the paper."

Boray stepped forward and handed Morgan a most silly contrivance. It was black and white, and the black came off on her fingers. "What is this?" she asked.

"It is a newspaper, your Highness," Boray said. "Humans use it to convey information about what happens around them."

"I see," Morgan said. Humans could be downright clever, at times. Of course, the Vanuli way of conveying information was better, but not everyone had the benefit of the Amenea. "Why have you brought this to me?"

Boray took the newspaper from her hands, said a short Translation Spell, and gave it back to her. There was a picture on the paper, and Boray brought it to her attention. The picture was of two females in an intimate embrace. Morgan vaguely recognized them, but she couldn't remember from where. They weren't hers, that much she knew.

"Who are these girls, and why should I care?" she demanded. Morgan didn't like it when she didn't know what was going on.

"They are Relena Peacecraft and Tashpi Mordal," Magathis said. "Tashpi is Relena's Naiyama. If you read the article, it will tell you more."

Morgan looked down at the newspaper. The roads were in Vanulian, courtesy of Boray's Translation Spell. It wasn't the first time Morgan had seen her language in print, but it was very close.

"The Enforcers await your instructions on the matter."

Morgan excused the warriors as she read the article, growing more and more indignant as time passed.

PLF

Heero massaged Daemon's back, slowly droning the words to make him ready, more receptive, to the coming spell.

"Ahmay, buto, kannai," Heero chanted. "Ahmay, buto, kannai." The words were old—so ancient that, in any other culture, their meaning would have long been changed and forgotten. This ritual, used by Vanuli since the Turning of the First Brother, when the Mother was young, kept the words alive. And the recipient quiet.

"Ahmay, buto, kannai," Heero chanted again, feeling Daemon's body go limp. Heero held Daemon's head out of the water and continued chanting.

PLF

"That'll be hilarious!" Quatre crowed bouncing along the path. "Just make sure you're not caught."

Dorothy had just finished telling him her plan for world domination—er, _Slytherin house_ domination, rather.

"Oh, Professor Snape knows by now to turn a blind eye to anything I do," Dorothy said. She smiled at the memory of teaching him that lesson.

Quatre's smile faltered, then brightened. "I don't want to know."

"I bet there's something else you want to know," Dorothy sang, rapidly changing topics.

Quatre stopped, and Dorothy walked right past him.

"What?" he asked, that cute little confused look on his face.

"Daemon," she said casually. She couldn't seem too interested, or Quatre would know she was fishing for information. And she needed to know everything there was to know about her boys.

"What a_bout_ Daemon?" Quatre asked cautiously. Smart boy.

"Oh, nothing, really," Dorothy said, trailing her hand through Quatre's hair. "I just thought you might, kinda, sorta, like him."

Quatre pushed her hand from his hair. He hated being treated like a child even more than Heero and Harry. Quatre was the _big_ brother, and he made sure everybody knew it. But he was still a child, still _Dorothy's_ child, and she would treat him as such anytime she damn well pleased. She just didn't please anymore right now.

"Of course, I like him," Quatre said. "I wouldn't have agreed to let Heero Turn him, otherwise." Quatre stormed away, and Dorothy had to jog to catch up with him.

"Yes, but do you _like him_ like him?" she asked, all pretenses gone. She was eager to know what Quatre thought he felt.

"Of course not!" Quatre all but screamed. "He's not _worthy_."

Meaning, he's not family. Not yet, anyway. But Dorothy could tell. She could see the interested looks, the too-long touches, the whispers, and she knew what it all boiled down to. Her boys were growing up so fast!

PLF

Heero winced and put his hand to his head, letting Daemon slip a little further down into the bath water.

_Ow_, he thought, not pausing in his chant.

PLF

_Just who does she think she is?_ Quatre ranted. He stalked past the bone golem on the path to Hogwarts. _I don't _like him_ like him. Dorothy doesn't know what she's talking about, going on and on and—OW!_

Quatre doubled over, his hands going to his head.

PLF

_Heero! Quatre!_ Harry screamed one last time.

"Are you getting through?" Relena asked, holding a squirmy Tashpi in her arms. Harry had explained the basics of what he was doing, but he didn't have time to make sure Relena really understood.

"No, I think we're too far away," Harry said. "We should just go on. They can meet us in the Room of Requirement." Harry started walking back to the main path.

Relena nodded and followed him.

_Heero! Quatre!_ Harry tried again, and he actually got through.

PLF

Heero gasped as the pain ran through his head. At the very back of his mind, he could hear a very tiny _Heero! Quatre! _

"Harry?" Heero asked out loud, before remembering himself and turning his earring around. _Harry?_

_Oh, yes. Thank God,_ Harry thought. Heero could faintly smell snow. _I've been trying to get ahold of you for—_

_Harry?_ Quatre's voice rang out in their heads. He and Dorothy had just entered the castle. _What's going on?_

_He was just about to—_

_It's time,_ Harry interrupted Heero.

_Time?_ Heero asked. _What time—_ "Oh, good Mother!"

_That time?_ Quatre asked.

_Yes! That time!_ Harry yelled. _I've got the girls, and we're almost there. We're—Blocked. The golems are blocking us!_

_Dorothy, let them_ "in," Quatre said.

_We're in. We're—_ "Oh, there you are," Harry said, meeting Quatre.

"Hello," Quatre said to Relena. He hugged her. "It's going to be okay."

"I know," Relena said, not loosening her hold on Tashpi.

_We're going on to the Room of Requirement,_ Harry and Quatre thought together. _Meet us there._

_I can't!_ Heero protested. He looked down at Daemon, sleeping face up in the water. Naked. "How am I going to get you there?"

PLF

"Roun?"

Roun motioned for Cassidy to come over. He was new among Roun's ranks—his former pack were all hunted and killed by wizards in the north. Thankfully, since Roun's alliance with Heero, none of Roun's pack had been murdered by those horrible humans.

"What's your report?" Roun asked. As pack leader, Roun had to know what was going on at all times.

"The humans are moving off," Cassidy said.

"Good." The pack had been trapped in this and other caves for close to a week. Dr. J's men were all over, and the pack was forced to hide from them. Them and their guns and their wands. "How long have they been moving?"

"An hour, maybe an hour and a half."

They should be gone for good in a couple more hours. Equipment like theirs took extensive and delicate packing.

"Tell the others we leave as soon as they're gone." That should give them plenty of time to get to Hogwarts and deliver the girl—and other information—to Heero without the risk of running into any more of J's men coming back to their camp. "Oh, and Cassidy, make sure the girl is taken care of."

Cassidy hesitated. "The drugs his Grace gave us are gone. We've used them all on the girl."

Roun sighed. "Have Malory do her magic on the girl, then." Malory was a made werewolf, and she had access to witch magic, unlike the born werewolves in the pack.

"Yes, Roun," Cassidy said. He left to follow out his orders.

PLF

Morgan stood in front of a full length mirror, doing the buttons up on her crisp military uniform. Technically, the queen should lead the Enforcers on a mission such as this (protocol established in 883 AD by that messy Kordel/LeFey affair), but Queen Aravu was old. She didn't _really _need to know about this. Morgan could take care of it just fine, and the queen would be none the wiser.

"Your Highness?" A young boy—maybe 13, 14—stood in the door to the princess's quarters.

"Yes? What is it?" Morgan asked. This better not be about the Yule preparations again. Everyone was up in a tizzy, just because the new princes would be around.

"Grand Director Mordal is here to speak with you."

"Oh, good," Morgan said, brightening. Malefacent Mordal was a peer of Morgan's—they were old childhood friends. Malefacent was the grandmother of the suspected Naiyama. She was also the leader of the Enforcers, having never been a Naiyama herself. Morgan knew she would do her duty no matter who was involved. "Send her in."

The boy nodded—he was a Kordel, but still might make an officer some day—and left to retrieve Malefacent.

Morgan smiled into the mirror. She ran her finger over her teeth. They were squeaky clean.

PLF

_Heero, where are you?_ Quatre and Harry screamed.

Heero winced, pain lacing between his eyes. All the screaming was _not_ pleasant.

_I'm with Daemon,_ Heero thought, as calmly as possible, given the circumstances, meaning that it came out as incomprehensible jargon much like an untrained monkey would type in three seconds. With his feet. Heero stood up in the tub, causing the blood-water to splash onto the floor.

_Well, get him and come on!_ That was Quatre. Heero could almost see as well as hear his family's movements. They were passing the Great Hall—full, by now, with a hole hell of a lot of brunching students—quickly making progress to the Room of Requirement. If they could just get there, they would be safe. Preferably, with all key players inside—and everybody else outside.

_I can't move him,_ Heero protested. _He's already entered the second stage!_

The second stage was when the recipient of the Turning relaxed and became more pliable. The Blood of the Ancestors softened the skin, making it easier to absorb the Turner's blood in the third stage. However, it also left the recipient very vulnerable. And, occasionally, their skin would actually...fall off, if moved. The fourth stage combatted this by forming a hard shell around the recipient as the recipient went into a sort of pupal stage. This is when the body actually absorbed the blood of the Turner, changing the recipient into a Vanuli. Then, in the fifth stage, the recipient emerged from the pupa as a new Vanuli. Technically, one didn't have to go through all of that to become a Vanuli, but it was the recommended way. The survival rate was much higher.

_Shit!_ Quatre cursed.

_Just leave him there,_ Harry thought. _Lock the door. He'll be fine._

_I can't just leave him!_ Heero thought. He pulled at his hair, trying not to scream. Daemon continued to float in the water. _He could die like this... There's only one thing I _can_ do._

There was a moment of silence as Harry and Quatre figured that out.

_Will it work like this?_ Quatre asked.

_Wha—_

_The blessing,_ Quatre thought. _Will the blessing work from here?_

_I-I don't—_ Heero stuttered. Could it? There certainly was no documented Amenea of it, but then again, they were the Vanuli triplets. "Never been done before" was their middle name.

_We'll try it,_ Heero thought, making up his mind. It was the only thing to do. If it didn't work, he would have to make a choice: Relena or Daemon.

PLF

"They're gone," Cassidy announced.

Roun nodded. "Is everything ready?"

"Yes."

"Weapons?"

"Check."

"Cubs?"

"Check."

"The prisoner? And the others?"

"Check and double check."

"Wonderful." Roun smiled. "Let's move out."

PLF

Morgan grumbled under her breath. Relena and Tashpi weren't in Sank Palace. They weren't anywhere in Sank! Everywhere the Enforcers checked—including the secluded "cottage" that housed many of their fairy parties—were empty. No trace of the girls _anywhere_.

"Damnit!" Morgan yelled, throwing a crystal glass. It hit the wall and was absorbed into the structure, a tiny flaw the only evidence it was there.

"Your Highness?" A young girl—Morgan couldn't think of her House, one of the peasant ones—squeaked from the doorway.

"What?" Morgan growled.

"Um, Grand Director Mordal told me to tell you that, um, they've got a new breakthrough. The girls are at Hogwarts," the girl squeaked.

Morgan whirled around. "Is this true, child?" She wasn't really a child, maybe 30 or 32, but still young.

"Yes, you Highness."

"Deploy the Enforcers," Morgan commanded.

"The Grand Director has already ordered it, your Highness."

"Good." Morgan smiled. She would catch and punish those little lawbreakers. Everyone would know, after this, the full punishment of criminal doings under Morgan LeFey the Seventh's watch. Even her own baby sons.

PLF

"Lucrezia!" Milliardo rushed into his rooms, where his wife lay waiting. The press conference had run longer than he intended. It might be too late...

No. It _wasn't_. He still had time. Relena would be okay. And Tashpi. They would be fine and have many babies and help bring Peacecraft House back to its former glory.

"Do you have it?" he asked, his voice gruff from hours of speaking to the press.

Lucy gave him the brooch. "I'm worried."

"Me, too." Milliardo pinned the brooch to his lapel. He made to walk away. He had a long way to walk before he was out of the wards.

"No," Lucy said, grabbing his shirt. "It'll take too long that way."

"What?"

"Crash the wards," Lucy said. "It may make all the difference."

Milliardo nodded. Time was more than "of the essence." It was quality crunch time. Life or death. Banishment or acceptance. Milliardo concentrated with all of his might. He could feel the first twinge of breakage. The wards came tumbling down with just a bit more pressure.

"Tell the guards." He knew Lucrezia would know what to do. Saying the code word, Milliardo portkeyed to Hogsmeade.

PLF

Quatre and the others arrived at the Room of Requirement. Thankfully, the door appeared as soon as they got there. They'd made very good time. Especially after Relena stuck some girl to the ceiling after said girl insulted Relena and got in their way. Said girl was most likely a Slytherin, because only they were dumb enough to not recognize the former Queen of the World _and_ to piss her off on a Very Bad Day.

Quatre opened the door, letting the three girls go in. He stopped Harry before either could enter. Carrying on a conversation was difficult at the pace they were running, even when the conversation was telepathic in nature and thus used up no oh-so-necessary oxygen. Saying a blessing was nigh on impossible. And, as Quatre didn't want Daemon to _die_ (even though he didn't have any sort of crush on him, what-so-ever), he wanted to do it correctly.

_Are you ready?_ Quatre asked.

_Yes,_ Heero said. Quatre could almost feel Heero holding Daemon. _Say the blessing._

Harry and Quatre nodded to one another and began the chant.

_Ahmay, buto, kannai._

PLF

_Ahmay, cuerto, bunnai,_ Heero's brothers chanted. Heero gathered Daemon in his arms. As long as they were immersed in the Blood of the Ancestors, Daemon was safe. Heero's brothers continued the chant, switching to English at the end.

_We bless you—_

_—Kidayo—_ Heero supplied.

_--Kidayo, and welcome you into our family. We bless you, Kidayo, and welcome you into our family._ They repeated the blessing several times, ending with, _"Donai Maya, Kidayo LeFey, and welcome, brother._ Thus ended the blessing.

"Donai Maya, Kidayo, and welcome to the family," Heero said, kissing Daemon's temple. Heero hugged Daemon tightly and opened all of his pores. Heero's blood rushed from the openings in his skin and entered Daemon's body, completing the third stage of the Turning.

PLF

"Well, that's one thing out of the way," Quatre said, chuckling nervously. And the day had started out so good. Sort of.

"Yep," Harry said. He clapped Quatre on the back. "Let's go in." He led Quatre back to the door.

Quatre stopped, remembering something important. Something _very _important. "_Accio_ garlands."

The garlands (everybody's—Harry's, Heero's, Quatre's, Dorothy's, Daemon's, Relena's, and Tashpi's) came whizzing to them, quicker than any Summoning Spell Quatre had ever performed. Harry, of course, reached out his hand with his Seeker-fast reflexes, catching two of them with a jolt. Quatre should have been ready for what happened next—Murphy's Law and everything—but he wasn't.

Harry's eyes glazed over and back, lightning fast. He looked ready to throw up.

"What?" Quatre asked, not wanting to hear the answer.

"They're here," Harry said in an eerily familiar tone.

"Who?" Quatre asked.

"Everyone."

Selune


	41. The Wedding

Disclaimer: I do not own any things Harry Potter—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to the wonderful J. K. Rowling and whomever else she decides. I do not own anything Gundam Wing—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to (I think) Bandai and Sunrise.

Spoilers: This fic contains spoilers for books 1-5 of Harry Potter and all of the episodes of Gundam Wing. This fic does not include Endless Waltz.

Rating: R

Pairings: Neville/Harry, 2x1, Relena/OFC, OMCx4, Zacharias/Harry

Category: crossover, fantasy, general, drama

Author: Selune

Author's site: 

Summary: Two years ago, the One Year War ended. At this time, the five heroes—the Gundam pilots—disappeared from the Muggle world. Three of them—pilots 02, 03, and 05—reappeared shortly after in the Wizarding world, as students at Hogwarts School of Witchraft and Wizardry. Now, twenty months after the fact, Heero Yuy and Quatre Winner are coming to Hogwarts, and they're bringing all of their secrets with them. The world—especially one Harry Potter—will never be the same.

Peace, Love, and Family:

The Story of the Vanuli Three

Chapter 40: The Wedding

The woman looked down on the two girls. They were so young, so innocent, just like she had been, long ago. Too long ago.

The two boys and that other girl stood by the door, talking quietly. Allurna knew all about it. The enemy was coming. The enemy who was family.

It was a wedding! This was supposed to be a happy time. A beautiful time

Allurna hovered in closer to the lovers, so like she and her Vierry had been, so long ago. Her precious Vierry, long dead and so very far away.

The one called Tashpi held her bride in her arms; she cradled the young girl to her chest, whispering sweet nothings into her ear. Soothing both of them as best she could.

"It's almost time, Le," Tashpi said, smoothing down Relena's hair. "We should get dressed."

Relena nodded and went to speak with the other three. Allurna hadn't bothered to learn their names yet, but she knew the two boys to be LeFey and thus, her cousins.

The three departed, leaving Tashpi and Relena to dress in their wedding clothes. It broke Allurna's heart—both for her own failed wedding and for the circumstances that brought about this one. Weddings were supposed to be happy occasions, not one ruled by fear.

Allurna steeled her unbeating heart. As Mother was her witness, she would do anything possible to make sure these girls did not end up like she and Vierry had.

With her new resolve, Allurna floated out, unseen, into the hallway. Those other three would know all the juicy gossip about when—and where—the Enforcers would show their faces.

Allurna wanted to greet them when they arrived.

PLF

"What are we going to do?" Quatre asked, wringing his hands. This was a very bad situation, even with their preparations.

"We do things as we planned," Dorothy said, taking charge. "I will lead my armies in a double distraction. Heero will go get Milliardo. We'll all meet here." Dorothy gestured to the door behind them. "At which point, you three will the seal the door. And then, of course, we will finish the ceremony at our leisure."

"But what about Daemon?" Quatre asked. His _friend_ couldn't exactly be left alone during his Turning, no matter what stage he was in.

"And the werewolves?" Harry said. "Heero's wolves are already in the Forbidden Forest, heading towards the gate."

Dorothy took a deep breath before answering. She was getting into leader mode—her most favorite state of being. Quatre knew Dorothy would know what to do.

"Quatre, you go get Rosencrantz and bring him here. Heero will have made the Blood of the Ancestors, so get some of that, too.

"Harry, while he's doing that, contact Heero and tell him to get Milliardo and to warn his werewolves away. I'll lay down shields with my bone golems. The code word "Anyanka" will open the shield, so Milliardo can get through. Tell Heero this.

"I will mobilize my golem army into a massive wall surrounding Hogwarts. My spiders will be the distraction, moving surreptitiously between the cracks in the golem wall."

"Won't they know we're trying to distract them?" Quatre asked. Sure, he'd only met a few Enforcers in his lifetime, but they seemed like a pretty smart bunch, at least when it came to finding people. After all, they enforced all Vanuli contracts. They could find _anyone, anytime._

"Of course," Dorothy said, smirking. "The trick is to confuse them as to which is the distraction. The bone golem wall, obviously, can't keep out a determined Vanuli army. They could simply grow wings and fly over or Change into tiny bugs and crawl through the cracks."

"So it's a bad plan," Harry said. His eyebrows furrowed. "Why are we doing it, then?"

"To make them think _that's _the distraction," Dorothy said. "We need to make them think that we're not in the castle."

"So we make them think that the golems are the distractions and that we're not in Hogwarts. What's the real distraction and where are we supposed to be?" Harry asked.

"The spiders." Dorothy was practically bouncing on her feet. Quatre no longer thought it weird that she loved profiting from the failure—or distraction—of others. It was just part of her personality. "We get seven spiders and put a drop of our blood on their backs, one for each of us, except for Rosencrantz. The spiders won't Turn, because they don't have enough natural magic. So we don't have to worry about that. We send the spiders—and a few hundred more—crawling through the cracks in the golem wall, and make them go in many different directions. Malefacent, the Grand High Director, will be able to smell the blood—"

"Like Relena!" Harry said.

"Like Relena," Dorothy nodded, "and she'll send the Enforcers after the spiders, thinking the wall was the distraction all along."

"Giving us enough time to get Milliardo up here and board ourselves in the Room of Requirement," Harry said.

"Good," Quatre said. "As long as it works."

"Oh, it'll work," Dorothy said. She tapped him in the shoulder. "Now, go."

Quatre nodded and turned to go to the Prefect's bathroom.

PLF

Heero slumped against the wall, panting. He was dressed in his robe, but it—and his hands and face—were covered in the Blood of the Ancestors.

It was a bitch getting Daemon out of the tub, and Heero didn't even bother dressing him. The shell was coming along nicely, with Daemon's feet and legs already being covered with the soft, inner shell.

Heero sighed and stood up. He should probably start making his way to the Room of Requirement. Heero said the spell to levitate Daemon and the stretcher, and—

_Heero!_ Harry cried out, startling Heero. The stretcher slipped back down to the floor, but Heero caught it before Daemon was jarred too badly.

_I know, I know. I'm coming._ Heero thought to Harry.

_No, no, don't come here, yet,_ Harry thought. Heero could feel someone—Quatre?—running. _You need to go get Milliardo. He's on the path that leads to Hogsmeade. The code word is Anyanka. Oh! And tell Roun and the others to stay in the forest._

_Wait, wait a minute,_ Heero protested_. I can't just leave Daemon here. His shell isn't all the way up yet. He could get hurt or something._

_Don't worry,_ Quatre thought to them, turning his earring back on. _I'm coming to get him._

_He'll be there in just a minute,_ Harry thought, his "voice" a little panicky.

_Oh, all right,_ Heero thought, _but I'm spelling the door shut. The password is "ai."_

Heero could feel Quatre nodding. He put up the spell and went to find Milliardo, forgetting that he only wore his robe and that he was covered in, to all appearances, actual blood.

PLF

In the Room of Requirement, Relena and Tashpi got ready for their wedding.

PLF

Dorothy dropped blood on her spiders and sent them on their way.

PLF

Harry mentally prepared himself for the creation of the Blood. He would have to be quick and get it right on the first try. There was no room for mistakes, today.

PLF

Outside the castle, Allurna LeFey dispersed herself, forming a tight magical seal between the golems and the doors to Hogwarts. Only the things she wanted to pass through would be able to.

PLF

Morgan stared at the white columns surrounding the human school. If anyone thought they could keep her out with _that_, they were sadly mistaken.

A young Enforcer—non-officer—ran up to Morgan. "Your Highness, the Grand High Director wishes to speak with you—"

"I can announce myself," Malefacent said, nudging the boy away. "Dona Maya, your Highness," Malefacent said, with all the proper respect due to the Crown Princess.

"Dona Maya, Grand High Director," Morgan returned. "What is your take on the situation?" Morgan was not above taking advice from lesser Vanuli.

"At first, we thought the wall was meant to distract us, of course," Malefacent said, gesturing with her hands.

"Of course," Morgan echoed. This was why she would listen to Malefacent. She was so much more militarily minded than Morgan.

"We found what we thought were the criminals moving towards the forest in spider form," Malefacent continued. "There scent was Vanuli."

"Ah, so have you caught them yet?" Morgan asked. It shouldn't be too hard to catch half a dozen spiders.

"No, your Highness," Malefacent said. "The spiders scattered after crawling through the wall. They all carried the Vanuli scent with them, so I sent a few teams out to chase them down." Malefacent quieted for a moment, introspective.

"And?" Morgan prodded.

"And, I don't think any of them were with the spiders. The spiders were a distraction."

"I thought the wall was the distraction," Morgan said, rubbing her forehead. She was getting a headache.

"They both were, your Highness. A double distraction, if you will," Malefacent said, carefully.

"So where _are_ they?" Morgan snapped.

"We think that they are still inside the castle," Malefacent said. "We never would have looked—until it was too late—except that, about five minutes after the spiders dispersed, a seal appeared over the castle. The signature is very powerful, definitely Vanuli. It may be the triplets."

"Shit," Morgan said. If her sons put up that shield, no one—well, maybe one—was getting that thing down. "How long do you think it'll take your men to crash it?"

"If it's the triplets..." Malefacent trailed off.

"Assume it's not," Morgan said, "and get your Enforcers to work on it. I want that shield down NOW."

"Malefacent's eyes hardened, her mouth in a tight line. "Yes, your Highness," she said, then turned and stalked off.

PLF

"Damn it!" Milliardo cursed, blasting the shield again. Like most Vanuli, Milliardo had a special talent. The triplets and Dorothy had their Gifts, Relena had her family-seeking nose, and Milliardo had his...whatever it was.

He could disrupt protection spells of all kinds—wards, shields, even a Turning shell—with barely any effort. Nothing Hogwarts had should be able to hold up against him.

Steeling himself, Milliardo threw magic at the shield again, barely remembering to hide from the Enforcers.

PLF

Heero ran through the halls, his bare feet slap, slap, slapping on the floor, water and Blood dripping from his robe, making his run extremely dangerous. Heero passed the Great Hall. If the situation hadn't been so dire, he would have smiled. He was almost there.

"Heero!" Duo yelled out as Heero ran.

Heero turned back to the Great Hall, but his feet kept going towards the door. He skidded dangerously, and just when he though he had his balance back, he tripped over his feet and fell into a puddle of his own making.

Heero looked on as Duo carefully made his way over to carefully—by "carefully" I mean, he tried to avoid the puddles of liquid while going as fast as humanly possible—and helped Heero up. He studied Heero's face, robe, and hands before bursting out with, "What the Hell happened to you!" Duo held Heero's biceps and wouldn't let him go.

Heero remembered his appearance and tried to break away from Duo. Duo wouldn't let him.

"Tell me," Duo demanded.

"I don't have time to tell you, now," Heero said. "I'll tell you later."

"No, you'll tell me now!" Duo said. His grip got firmer. There would be a bruise there tomorrow. "If you don't tell me now, you'll never really tell me. I'll never know. So you're going to tell me now, and you're going to let me help you."

Heero sighed, looking back and forth between Duo and the entrance. Duo or the door.

"Fine," Heero said. "But listen up, because I'm only going to say this once. Relena and Tashpi are going to be banished and killed if they don't get married in the next few minutes. My job is to get Milliardo up to where they are in the next five seconds. If you really want to help, stay out of our way." Heero kissed Duo's nose and broke out of his grip. "I love you, and I'll see you tomorrow."

Heero turned and, not wanting to risk a fall, grew wings on his feet and flew out of the castle.

PLF

Allurna saw the boy fly out of the school and knew he was a good guy. He had that look about him.

Allurna had been watching the tall, blonde man try to break her shield. He seemed like one of the good ones, too, but she wasn't sure. There were so many living Vanuli trying to break through, she wasn't sure who was good and who wanted to hurt those girls.

The winged boy saw the blonde man where the wall split. They both came as close to the wall as they could. Allurna knew, if the winged boy tried, her shield would come crashing down. She didn't want that.

When the man and boy said the word she thought was the right one—Anyanka—she temporarily lifted the shield, letting them in.

Unfortunately, they weren't the only ones who got in.

PLF

Zacharias sat in the Three Broomsticks, nursing his butterbeer. His buzz was gone, leaving him with a mild headache and a bruised ego. Why did Harry leave like that? Did he not trust Zacharias?

"Stop sulking, Zachy," Susan said.

Zacharias flinched at the nickname. He always had hated it. "Fuck off, Sue," he said, turning away from her.

"Aw, don't be like that," Susan said. She scrunched up her face and said in a baby-talk voice, "Don't be such a sour puss." She laughed and her voice, thankfully, went back to normal. "He said it was a family thing. Why would he lie?"

Zacharias scowled. Wasn't it obvious? "Look around us, Sue. Who don't you see?"

Susan looked—she actually had to look!—and started naming names. "Hannah and Ernie aren't here, they broke up again, so that's no surprise. Justin's over there, so—Hey, Justin!" She waved to their house mate. "The Creevey brothers aren't here—probably worshipping at their shrine of your boyfriend—and—"

"Susan!" Zacharias said, to shut her up. "It's Longbottom! Longbottom's not here."

Susan leaned back in her seat. "Oh. Well, I'm sure it's just a coincidence." She didn't look so sure, though.

"Yeah, right," Zacharias said. He went back to nursing his butterbeer, feeling sorry for himself.

PLF

"Hey, Daemon," Quatre whispered softly when he entered the Prefect's bathroom. His shell hadn't hardened yet, and Quatre could see Daemon's eyes, open and flickering. He was conscious. That wasn't good. That wasn't good at all.

Quatre bent down beside Daemon, almost at eye level. "I'm going to be taking care of you," he said. He eyed Daemon's body from head to toe. The toes were completely covered in the hard shell, up to his calves, really. But the rest was still gooey. Quatre knew better than to touch it.

At least he was already on the stretcher. Quatre didn't want to know how Heero managed that—probably a levitation spell of some kind.

"I was going to Apparate us," Quatre confessed, "but it's too risky like this." If only the shell was actually a _shell_ instead of this thick film. Quatre said the levitation spell and made Daemon's stretcher follow beside him.

Quatre remembered to take the spells off the bathroom before going back to the Room of Requirement.

PLF

Heero almost fell when the shield gave in. He knew it wasn't Dorothy's shield—it was far too powerful for her—but he knew it was from somebody who wished to help them.

Milliardo fell through the shield and the crack in the golem wall. Heero broke his fall.

_He's in,_ Heero thought to his brothers as Milliardo got off of him. _We'll be there in a few._

_Us, too, _Quatre thought.

Harry made a noise of agreement, and Heero went back to ignoring their thoughts.

"Let's go," Heero said.

"Heero?" Milliardo said. "Look behind you." His eyes were wide.

Heero looked behind himself and cursed. A dozen Enforcers had made it passed the shield. When or how, Heero didn't know. If they got in when Heero let Milliardo in, it wouldn't be much of a problem. But if they got in by themselves, it was very, very bad.

Heero would take care of all these men and pray that he and Milliardo would make it to the Room of Requirement in time. Heero held his hand out, palm first, at the Enforcers. "Sleep," He commanded, and they fell, where they stood.

"Come on, Milly," Heero said. He grabbed his cousin's hand, and they Apparated, house elf style, to the hall that housed the Room of Requirement.

PLF

Roun and his pack stood in the Forbidden Forest in their wolf forms. Unlike other werewolves, Roun's pack could transform any time, because of their alliance with Heero.

At any moment, three or more wolves surrounded the magically-induced sleeping prisoner. Roun would take no risk on her getting away.

PLF

"If they got in, so can you!" Malefacent screamed at a subordinate. She was usually cool, calm, and collected during a mission, but with her Highness here, Malefacent couldn't do anything right.

The princess was an idiot when it came to catching criminals, but she was the Crown Princess, and Malefacent was bound by law to follow her orders. Thankfully, she wouldn't be in power much longer. The whole of Vanuli would be better off when Morgan LeFey the Seventh's power was restricted purely to her own clan.

Malefacent saw an Enforcer standing idle. "Get back to work!" she snapped, throwing magic at the shield herself.

PLF

Relena stood across from Tashpi. She was wearing her mother's white wedding robe, and Tashpi was wearing Relena's father's red wedding robe. Both had flowers in their hair, vines wrapping around and around their heads, making their garlands. Their hands were clasped together, bound with a large, white ribbon.

Dorothy stood behind Tashpi, and Milliardo stood behind Dorothy. The triplets stood by the door, their magic making the room undetectable to all but the most powerful Vanuli. Daemon lay in his stretcher in a corner of the room. They all wore their garlands, and Milliardo held another one in his hands. Dorothy held a chalice containing the Blood of the Ancestors that Harry had made from Heero's Blood.

Relena and Tashpi had already said their vows, saying all the same things that all lovers had said since the dawn of intelligence. "I love you, and I will always love you. Forever and ever, amen."

Dorothy stepped in front of Relena and Tashpi, and Milliardo stepped in back of them. The girls moved so that they formed a diamond, with them looking at one another and Dorothy and Milliardo looking at one another.

Dorothy set the chalice down at her feet. She looked at her sister. Tashpi bent her head down, and smiling, Dorothy lifted the garland from Tashpi's head. She kissed her older sister's forehead, and Tashpi straightened, again.

"I release you from your duties and obligations as a Mordal," Dorothy began. "I release you from the warrior caste and from Mordal clan. Maya Dona, sister." Dorothy put the garland down and picked up the chalice.

Milliardo stepped forward, and the girls turned towards him. Tashpi leaned her head down again. Milliardo placed the new garland on her head. He stepped back. "In the name of Mother, Father, and brother Peacecraft, I accept you into the Peacecraft clan."

Dorothy dipped her fingers in the chalice, drawing the blood out. "In the name of the Mother," she swiped her fingers across Relena's forehead, "and the Father," across Tashpi's forehead, "and the First Children," Dorothy tipped the chalice upside down over their hands, "I declare these two wed."

"In the name of love, I present Relena and Tashpi Peacecraft," Milliardo pronounced.

The wedding was complete. A great cheering ran through the room. They had done it. They had really done it.

PLF

The wedding was over. Allurna let her shield down.

PLF

They had done it. A great cheering ran through the crowd. The shield was down, and the Enforcers flooded the grounds.

Crash after crash sounded as the Enforcers Apparated, following their prey through instinct.

PLF

Kayla lay on the ground as she looked around warily. These idiot werewolves thought they could keep her, but she would get out sooner or later. All she had to do was wait for the right moment. Until then, she would pretend to sleep.

The wolves stopped circling her. Their ears perked up. Kayla froze, trying to catch a whisper of what they heard. She couldn't, but it didn't matter. The wolves were distracted.

Quickly, quietly, Kayla got to her feet. Turning around, she back away from the wolves. Crunching in the snow, Kayla broke into a run, running towards, hopefully, where people were. She would be able to escape if she was in the company of humans.

It didn't take long until Kayla heard the werewolves following her.

PLF

A young girl ran into the Three Broomsticks, screaming, "Hogwarts is being attacked!"

Zacharias looked up at the girl, but not for long.

"Help! Somebody! Something's attacking Hogwarts!"

The entire bar went silent, then erupted into pandemonium as everyone—mainly ex-DA members—got to their feet, ready to run to their school's defense.

PLF

Harry smirked as he Saw the Enforcers finally make their way into Hogwarts. He dropped his Charms and told his brothers to do the same. The danger was over. It didn't matter if they were found, now.

A pounding came at the door. Harry sauntered on over. He opened the door and, upon seeing hordes of Enforcers, said, "Dona Maya, cousins. Are you here for the reception?"

Selune


	42. Wants and Needs

Disclaimer: I do not own any things Harry Potter—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to the wonderful J. K. Rowling and whomever else she decides. I do not own anything Gundam Wing—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to (I think) Bandai and Sunrise.

Spoilers: This fic contains spoilers for books 1-5 of Harry Potter and all of the episodes of Gundam Wing. This fic does not include Endless Waltz.

Rating: R

Pairings: Neville/Harry, 2x1, Relena/OFC, OMCx4, Zacharias/Harry

Category: crossover, fantasy, general, drama

Author: Selune

Author's site: 

Summary: Two years ago, the One Year War ended. At this time, the five heroes—the Gundam pilots—disappeared from the Muggle world. Three of them—pilots 02, 03, and 05—reappeared shortly after in the Wizarding world, as students at Hogwarts School of Witchraft and Wizardry. Now, twenty months after the fact, Heero Yuy and Quatre Winner are coming to Hogwarts, and they're bringing all of their secrets with them. The world—especially one Harry Potter—will never be the same.

Peace, Love, and Family:

The Story of the Vanuli Three

Chapter 41: Wants and Needs

Hogwarts was being attacked!

Hermione ran back to the castle, along with the rest of the ex-D.A. A normally fifteen minute walk turned into a five minute run, amazingly with no trips, dips, or stumbles, even from the younger years.

Hermione, still running, ran into Ron. "What are you doing?" she asked, picking herself up. "We need to get to the—Oh." Hermione looked up, and all she saw was white. Gleaming bones were all she could see for almost a kilometer up, one on top of and next to another, encircling the entire area around Hogwarts' front doors.

"How are we going to get past those?" a Hufflepuff fourth year asked. Hermione didn't know his name, but he was Dennis Creevey's best friend. He was always over at Gryffindor Tower.

"We could blast them," Ron suggested.

"No, we can't do that," Hermione said, wand in one hand, hair twisting around a finger on the other. "There could be a shield around them. It could backfire and hit someone." She looked around. If Hermione had been such a person, she would have sworn. She wasn't, though, so she had to be content with an, "Oh, dear," while Ron imitated a sailor beside her. "There are children here."

Indeed, there were. It seemed like everybody in Hogsmeade—not just ex-D.A., like Hermione would expect—came running back to Hogwarts. Including the third and fourth and even the few second years who managed to sneak out each and every Hogsmeade weekend.

And they weren't the only ones. Hermione counted over a dozen centaurs come out from the woodwork and over twenty adults she didn't know, chatting to the centaurs. One of the men—a big, broad-shouldered, hunk of a man—took flight, and Hermione figured out who they were. Pretty much.

_Are they attacking Hogwarts? Or are they helping us?_ It dawned—briefly—in Hermione's mind that the bone golems, which made up this very effective blockade—belonged to that Slytherin Catalonia. Which meant either she had fallen, she had betrayed the school, or she was trying to help. Supposing, of course, that Death Eaters had even come to Hogwarts, which Hermione was beginning to doubt.

Death Eaters could be very sneaky. No child—except, perhaps, Hermione and her trouble-maker friends—would have been able to discover them, if they truly didn't want to be found.

"What about the brooms?" Ron asked.

What a time to be thinking about Quidditch. "Oh, Ron, the brooms will be fine. They're way over in the...shed." Hermione had a brilliant idea. "Ron, the brooms! We could ride the brooms over!" Hermione stepped back, so the other—older—students could hear her.

"Isn't that what I said?" Ron asked, scratching his head.

PLF

Kayla could see light. Blessed, bright light!

There were voices, too!

Kayla almost cried, she was so happy. Soon, she would be back among her kind. And every last one of those wolves would be put down like the mutts they were.

Kayla took a deep breath. "HELP!" she screamed, pushing herself faster.

PLF

Morgan heard her son's words and snapped. How dare he mock them! She stormed her way through the Enforcers—who gladly jumped out of her way like obedient puppies—up to the door where Nelat stood.

_Smack!_ The back of her hand sent him crashing to the floor.

"You listen to me, and you listen good, little Nelat," she snapped as silence descended over the crowd. The child Naiyama forced herself to the front, but Morgan paid no attention to her. Malefacent could deal with the little whelp. "I am _very_ angry with you, you little lawbreaker, and I will make sure you are punished to the full extent of our law. I am you _mother_, and you will obey me."

Nelat stood up. He was trembling.

_Good. He's afraid of me, as he should be._

Nelat narrowed his eyes and squared his shoulders. "You. Are. Not. My. Mother," he said evenly, with no inflection in his voice.

Morgan—and everyone else—gasped. _How dare he!_

"My mother's name is Lily Potter," Nelat said. "She died for me, because she loved me so much. What have _you _done for me?"

Morgan squeaked with outrage in the back of her throat. She was so angry, she couldn't speak.

"You speak of "our law," like it should mean something to me, when it obviously doesn't mean anything to you."

Morgan found her voice. "You will shut up—now—if you know what's good for you."

"You will shut up, if _you_ know what's good for you!" All glass in the vicinity exploded. Morgan felt a sharp pain as the bauble on her neck cut into her skin. Magic crackled in the air. Morgan shut up. "I know our laws, especially the custody ones."

"I—"

"Don't. You. Even." Said calmly, right before the storm, Morgan knew. "Sixteen years."

Morgan's heart dropped to her stomach. Not this.

"I lived with them for sixteen years, and they weren't even my relatives." Nelat closed his eyes. "Do you know what it's like to live with people who hate you, who despise the very essence of your being? Do you know what it's like to grow up with love all around you, while you have never known it's touch? Do you know what it's like for the only physical contact you have is full of pain and anger? DO YOU?"

Nelat opened his eyes. "I do. What's worse is knowing that it didn't have to be that way. I didn't have to live like that.

"I have no living relatives on my father's side of my family. I know the law. As soon as the last Potter died, you could have come and snatched me back to Haven. But you didn't. Instead, you let me rot for SIXTEEN YEARS with the Dursleys, and I will never forgive you for that.

"You are not my mother. You're just the bitch who bore me." With that, Nelat pushed his way forward and out into the hall.

Morgan saw him leave and wanted to follow him, but she couldn't get her legs to move.

"Well, you handled that just _perfectly_, didn't you?" a voice rang out.

Morgan hissed and turned around. "Ismea, you little flea, you—"

Yeah, yeah. Blah, blah, blah. Save it," Ismea answered. "You've already hurt Harry. Now, why don't you leave?"

Morgan's temper rose another three degrees. "Trying to get out of your punishment? Believe me, you'll want to. When I'm through with you, you'll wish you'd just let your sister _die_."

"I'm sure," Ismea said. Why were these children so impertinent! "You can send them us in the mail."

"I will do no such—"

"Leave. Now." Malal stepped forward. He shook with anger, tears forming in his eyes. They scalded the floor where they fell.

Her other son was in the corner of the room, tending to someone. He stared at her, hatred evident in his eyes. The Peacecraft Head of House glared down at her. Even the newly married criminals bristled with magic.

Morgan back down. Sure, she was more powerful than Ismea and the Peacecrafts put together, but if Imela and Malal started throwing hexes, not even the entirety of the Enforcer army could save her.

"Fine," Morgan said. She turned to Ismea. "But take down your wall first. I don't wish to fly over it again."

"Done," Ismea said, with a wave of her hand. Morgan wanted to wipe the smile off her face. Permanently.

Instead, she turned around and stalked away. She didn't look back.

PLF

Balor had been playing—with a very gorgeous Yimary boy—when he heard the news that the Enforcers were going to Hogwarts. Normally, he didn't care what the army did—after all, he was a noble and, as such, above such things—but Hogwarts meant Nelat—Harry—and that persuaded Balor to go.

Vanuli are a lot like humans when tragedy strikes. They stand by the wreckage and gawk while officials try to clean up, carting away the gruesomely dead bodies. Vanuli watch and think and thank Mother that it wasn't them or someone they loved. When it is a loved one, they break down into hysterics, take it stoically, or anything in between. Just like humans.

Balor, obviously, wasn't a human, but he did count Nelat as a loved one, and he wanted to make sure he was okay. Not that he was worried or anything. After all, Nelat was a _triplet_. There was no one more powerful than him.

All the same, Balor wanted to make sure. That's how he found himself wandering the halls of an unknown castle, occasionally running into a small human or three, inevitably sending them running, screaming, away from him. The white wall had been nothing for Balor to cross. He hadn't even hesitated before growing wings and flying over.

The sounds of crying—quiet, dry sobs that were sure to be accompanied with jerky body movements—and smashing reached Balor's ears. He knew it was Nelat. Sure, he'd only heard Nelat cry once, but it was a sound Balor would never forget.

Balor came to a door that hadn't been opened in so long that dust coated the handle. Little clean spots—big enough to be fingerprints—indicated it had been used recently. Balor opened the door.

He expected to see Nelat there, but Balor was still surprised to see him lying on the floor, curled up in the fetal position, sobs wracking his body. The crashes Balor heard were the sounds of portraits—landscapes—falling to the floor as the room shook.

"Harry?" Balor said, walking to his cousin. He grabbed Harry into his lap and held onto him. "Sh. Sh. It'll be okay."

Harry wrapped his arms around Balor's neck and cried.

PLF

Ron sighed as he and the others waited for Hermione to send the signal. As the fastest runner in the school—other than Harry, who was inside Hogwarts and, thus, inavailable—she had been sent to unlock the broom shed. Ron had wanted to just _Accio_ the brooms, damn the consequences, until Hermione pointed out that the brooms would be bludgeoned beyond recognition trying to get out of the shed, unless someone opened the door. It didn't hurt that Hermione knew twice as many opening charms as Ron knew spells, total.

Still, he was getting a little impatient. A little _Deflagare_ couldn't hurt much, could it?

Ron saw green sparks in the distance. That was the signal. Good.

PLF

Hermione panted as the brooms rushed past her. She supposed she could have ridden a broom back, but as she had only even touched a broom precisely once after first year instruction, she doubted it. Ron would just have to take the lead for awhile, just until she got back, or they found Harry. Though, Ron _wa_s a better strategist than Harry.

Hermione stopped on her way back to the school, panting. She'd made it to the pitch in a record five minutes and thirteen seconds. She knew so, because in _Hogwarts, A History_, the record was listed as five minutes, eighteen seconds.

Hermione thought she heard a scream and turned around. She didn't see anyone, but another scream was sounded, this time closer. It was coming from the forest. Cursing—this time out loud—Hermione prepared to run for the girl. First, of course, she would make sure it was an actual person and not a Panther Lily. She didn't want to be almost eaten, like Harry.

Hermione was saved from running—she _really_ needed to get in better shape—when a young woman about Hermione's age emerged from the forest, being chased by large dogs. No, not dogs. Wolves. But they were too large for regular wolves, so they must be...

Hermione's eyes widened. It was impossible—the full moon was over a week away, and it was still daylight out!—but it was true.

Hermione drew her wand, pointing it at the lead werewolf. "_Petrificus totalus_!" she said, firing off spell after spell at the approaching wolves.

"Are you okay?" Hermione asked the girl after felling every last werewolf.

"Yes. Thank you," the girl—she had to be a witch—said. "They snapped my wand, or I would have done it myself. I've been—Oh, God—they took me, I don't know how long ago. I was so scared."

The girl latched onto Hermione, dragging her down to the grass. The girl's hysteria felt wrong, somehow. Like it wasn't real. Annoyed, Hermione looked back to the castle. She really needed to get back.

Hermione was surprised to find the bone wall gone, the golems back to their normal, spread-out positions. That was the last thing Hermione saw before she got this horrible pain between her eyes and passed out.

When she awoke, she would notice her wand was missing.

PLF

Ron was annoyed, frustrated, and a little happy. Annoyed because of the people—Vanuli, Hermione had said—and centaurs lounging on the lawn, acting for all the world as though nothing was happening; frustrated, because there seemed to _be_ nothing happening; and happy because the wall was gone.

Ron walked into the castle after banishing his broom back to the broom shed. He probably wouldn't need it inside. It was quiet inside, with just him and the ex-D.A. members, some holding brooms, some not. Brunch had ended some time ago, so the silence wasn't unexpected. Of course, the quiet would also make sense if Death Eaters were inside Hogwarts.

"Oy! I don' t see anybody attacking!" a younger Ravenclaw said. "Wouldn't we be able to see them?"

There was a smattering of agreement.

Ron huffed. "If no one's attacking, then _why_ would those bone golems have been forming a wall around the doors? Hmm?"

"Maybe that Slytherin chit was having us on. You know she controls them," Zacharias Smith said.

Ron hated Smith, the smarmy git. Trying to take Harry away from them. Harry belonged with _George_. Couldn't anybody see that? Harry just had to be a Weasley. If he couldn't do it by marrying Ginny, then he should damn well suck it up and just marry George. Not. Date. Zacharias. Bloody. Smith.

Ron smiled—very fakely—and said, "You know, Smith, you just might be right. Why don't we stop looking now? And if we're wrong, and there is a Death Eater—or two or three or twelve—here, we can let him—or them or her—have free reign over the whole school."

There were titters of laughter and not a few frightened faces.

"What do you suggest we do, then?" Smith asked.

"Well, obviously, someone needs to find Professor Dumbledore and Harry," Ron said. "Dumbledore needs to know about this, and the Death Eaters are probably _after_ Harry. The rest of us need to search for Death Eaters—or rats missing body parts," Ron mumbled that last part, "until Dumbledore decides something else."

Ron shouldn't have been surprised when Smith volunteered for Harry-finding duty.

PLF

Kayla trudged up the grounds to the castle entrance. Surprisingly—this castle was supposed to be _so_ protected—no one—or thing—tried to stop her.

She had a wonderful idea. J wouldn't let her back into the fold, no matter how good she was at her job or how much she knew. Not easily, anyway. But if she brought him Heero, Kayla figured the good doctor would not only take her back but promote her, too, so she'd finally have more authority than those Mu and Nu snobs. She just had to figure out how, exactly, she was going to capture Heero.

But first, she had to find herself a nice hidey-hole.

PLF

Heero heard the mournful crying of his werewolves, and then nothing. They'd not had too much in the way of communication these last few weeks, but Heero felt them as soon as they stepped on Hogwarts ground. He'd also felt it when they fell on Hogwarts ground.

Heero desperately wanted to go to his puppies, but he couldn't. Daemon wasn't doing so hot, and Heero didn't want to leave him. His shell wasn't formed properly, and the magic would start leaking out soon. Not only would that, most likely, kill Daemon, but it would also taint the room. That would not be a good thing, since this was a room of magic.

Heero called Quatre over to him.

"Yes?" Quatre asked. He had been overseeing the removal of the Enforcers and talking to Milliardo. "The Enforcers are gone."

Heero felt a little bit of release. At least one thing was taken care of.

"My wolves are back," Heero began, slowly. He shifted his position. Daemon was laying on his arm, and it had fallen asleep. "They had a prisoner with them. I didn't get a clear picture, but I know she's a woman. She's somehow knocked out the pack and escaped."

Quatre nodded. "I'll take care of it. You just rest."

Quatre patted Heero's head, and he nodded. Heero _did_ feel a little sleepy. Heero hugged Daemon closer to him and fed a little more magic to the shell.

PLF

Heero was really pale.

"Is he going to be okay?" Relena asked. She had only witnessed one Turning, and it was nothing like this. Of course, the Turnee had been a fully grown Veela—she had more magic than the average wizard.

"I'll make sure of it," Dorothy said. Her eyes were narrowed. She always got that way after an encounter with Heero's mother.

"Is there anything we can do?" Tashpi asked. They were all talking in whispers.

"No. We've got it taken care of," Quatre said.

Millidaro nodded. "Then we'll leave. We have to talk to Professor Dumbledore first, explain what happened. Then we're going to Floo back home."

Relena and Tashpi said good-bye to everybody.

"Congratulations si—cousin," Dorothy said after kissing Tashpi on the cheek.

Tashpi smiled. "Thank you."

Relena threaded her fingers through Tashpi's. She couldn't believe they were actually married and said as much.

"Well, believe it. It's true," Tashpi said. They kissed.

Despite all the problems and fears and foregone punishments, Relena was happy. She beamed all the way to the Headmaster's office.

PLF

Harry wiped his eyes on his sleeves. He was horribly embarrassed. He'd run away, so no one would see him cry, but Balor found him anyway. Maybe it was fate. Maybe it was just luck. Either way, Harry was thankful for it.

For the past hour, Harry had talked himself blue. He talked about growing up at the Dursleys, about finding out he was a wizard, about finding out he _wasn't_ a wizard. Harry told Balor all the things he wanted to say to Neville, to Zacharias, to Ron and Hermione. He missed them; though, it was largely his fault he didn't see them anymore.

Harry told Balor about his love for his brothers and Relena and her family, about how he couldn't bring himself to care for the rest of the Vanuli, except for Balor, of course. Harry told Balor all his fears. He was afraid that Heero and Quatre would leave or be taken from him. He was afraid of facing the "two evils," who he assumed to be Voldemort and that bastard Dr. J. Harry even told Balor his greatest fear: Fusion.

After telling Balor any and everything, Harry had one last thing to say. He curled himself up in Balor's arms, his own arms around Balor's waist. "Why didn't she want me?"

PLF

Zacharias hadn't been looking for long when he heard a voice. It was, unmistakably, Harry's.

They were on the second floor. Harry was in an old, disused classroom.

Zacharias expected Harry to be taking to Yuy or Winner. Or Catalonia, Granger, or even, (ugh) Weasley. What Zacharias did _not_ expect to find was his boyfriend in the arms of another man. A very large, very good-looking man.

Zacharias saw red. Rather, he saw green. But since he was _not_ Longbottom, and he had some modicum of decency, he didn't just barge in, wand ablazing.

Instead, he listened at the door, like a gentleman. The room had amazing acoustics, probably to discourage talking in class (who wanted to talk about what "a bitch that Ravenclaw Cathy was" when everyone could hear you?), and Zacharias could very easily hear them.

The big brute was talking. "She's an idiot. _Anyone_ who doesn't want you is an idiot." A pause. "I want you."

Harry lifted his head, and Zacharias ducked behind the door. If Harry actually looked, he would be able to see Zacharias's shadow. _Stupid torches._

"Don't say that," Harry said. "You shouldn't say that."

He didn't sound very convinced, though. Zacharias could just imagine him making googly eyes at the man. _"Oh, you big, dumb ox, fuck me!"_ Zacharias thought, mimicking Harry's voice in a falsetto.

Harry was _his_ boyfriend, and nobody was going to take him away from Zacharias!

"But I want to," the man said.

"Balor..." That was Harry.

Zacharias couldn't take not seeing them anymore and stood in the doorway. They didn't see him.

"I've wanted you since the minute I saw you," Balor said. "I can't stop thinking about you. About your lips. The way you taste. I know everything about you. All of your secrets. I know we won't have much time together. I still want you."

Zacharias ignored everything Balor said, his eyes glued on Harry's face and lips. Balor leaned down to kiss him. Harry didn't stop him.

Zacharias ran.

PLF

Harry pulled away from Balor. "I can't do this."

"Yes, you can," Balor insisted. He held onto Harry.

"No. I have a boyfriend."

"You don't love him."

"You don't love ME!"

"I could, given time."

"So could I, " Harry said. "He's perfectly lovable and very cute. He has this little upturned nose that I tease him about mercilessly, and—"

"You're already gone on him." Balor sighed.

Harry frowned. "I am not."

"Sure. You talk about him like I talk about you."

"Oh," Harry said. He smiled. It was perfect. "So you see why I can't be with you."

Balor sighed—again. "Yes. Just promise me one thing. When—If this thing...ends before, you know, give me a chance?"

Harry nodded, gravely. "You'll be at the top of my list."

PLF

Dorothy moved Heero and Daemon from the stretcher over to the bed. Heero was pale and sweating. His arms were—somehow—inside Daemon's shell, but the shell was finally—safely—hard. With luck, he would make it.

Until then, Hero would just have to stay wrapped around Daemon. Dorothy could spell them apart, but it was likely that the shell would collapse shortly thereafter. She didn't think Heero would want that.

"How's he doing?" Quatre asked, coming up behind her. It hadn't been until Quatre got back from taking care of Roun and his pack—safely ensconced in an unused guest bedroom—that Dorothy could get Heero and Daemon up to bed. She had planned on scaring the password out of an ickle firstie, but no one had come in or out of Gryffindor Tower in over an hour, until Quatre came back and let them in.

There _was_ activity in the common room, though. It had been fun—for Dorothy—getting herself and her fellow Slytherin up to the seventh year boys' dorm. She would be spending the night.

"Better. He's got some color to him."

Quatre changed for bed. Dorothy borrowed a pair of his pajamas.

There was a knock at the door. "You've caused quite a commotion down there," Harry said, walking into the bedroom.

No one mentioned the commotion Harry caused earlier.

"Are we going to bed?" Harry asked.

Dorothy nodded. "Get changed." She threw a pair of pajama bottoms and a t-shirt at him. "You get second middle."

Harry changed and got in bed. Dorothy got in behind him, and Quatre got in on the other side, behind Daemon and Heero.

Selune

Author's note: I can't decide who Harry should end up with. I have four choices: Neville, Zacharias, Balor, or George.


	43. The Awakening, the Capture, and the Huff...

Disclaimer: I do not own any things Harry Potter—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to the wonderful J. K. Rowling and whomever else she decides. I do not own anything Gundam Wing—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to (I think) Bandai and Sunrise.

Spoilers: This fic contains spoilers for books 1-5 of Harry Potter and all of the episodes of Gundam Wing. This fic does not include Endless Waltz.

Rating: NC17

Pairings: Neville/Harry, 2x1, Relena/OFC, OMCx4, Zacharias/Harry, OMC/Harry

Category: crossover, fantasy, general, drama

Author: Selune

Author's site: 

Summary: Two years ago, the One Year War ended. At this time, the five heroes—the Gundam pilots—disappeared from the Muggle world. Three of them—pilots 02, 03, and 05—reappeared shortly after in the Wizarding world, as students at Hogwarts School of Witchraft and Wizardry. Now, twenty months after the fact, Heero Yuy and Quatre Winner are coming to Hogwarts, and they're bringing all of their secrets with them. The world—especially one Harry Potter—will never be the same.

Peace, Love, and Family:

The Story of the Vanuli Three

Chapter 42: The Awakening, the Capture, and the Hufflepuff

Hermione slowly awoke. With her eyes closed, she couldn't quite figure out where she was. She was in a bed but not in _her_ bed. Her sheets were soft and silky, with three or four pillows supporting her head, her wand, and the mound of books she inevitably fell asleep beside. This bed was-not hard, but nowhere near as soft as her own. And the sheets were scratchy.

Hermione opened her eyes. She was in the Infirmary. Of course. But why was she—Oh.

Hermione closed her eyes again as the memories—yesterday's? An hour ago's? When?—came rushing back. The little girl in The Three Broomsticks. The bone wall. The werewolves. The other girl.

_That bitch!_ Hermione opened her eyes and sat up. Sparing only a glance at the table beside her—there were no flowers or candies—she swung her legs over the bed. She was almost standing up when it happened.

"Miss Granger, you get back in that bed," Madam Pomfrey said, bustling over to her.

Hermione did as she was told, feeling much like she had when her teachers scolded her in primary school. They always told her not to read ahead, but she could never help it.

"What happened? How did I get here?" Hermione asked. "Did Professor Dumbledore take care of those werewolves?"

"Honey, there weren't any werewolves," Madam Pomfrey said, pulling the covers up to Hermione's chin. "Mr. Winner found you outside and brought you up here. I'm sorry, but he couldn't find you wand."

_My wand!_

Talking fast, Hermione said, "This girl, she attacked me. She must have my wand. I have to speak to the Headmaster, so I can describe her. She's not a student."

"Miss Granger, Hermione," Madam Pomfrey said, softly, "I need to check you over first. I wasn't sure what spells were cast on you—except the Impervious Charm Mr. Winner cast to protect you from the snow—so I couldn't properly check you over. Give me just a minute, and eat this chocolate." Madam Pomfrey pulled a bar from her uniform. "And you can go to the Headmaster after. However, he's probably not in his office at the moment. He's making an announcement this morning."

Hermione took the chocolate. She could see, now, why Harry would barely touch the stuff. Having it shoved at you from all angles while you were ill took all the fun out of chocolate.

Madam Pomfrey looked at Hermione from every inch and angle before—finally—declaring her healthy. "Your clothes are just over here in this chair. After you finish eating your chocolate, you're free to go at any time."

Hermione had almost finished dressing when there was a rustling at the filmy curtains that separated her bed from the others.

"Hermione?" It was Harry.

"Just a minute," she said, struggling into her jeans. Another reason chocolate was bad—it went straight to her hips. "All right." Hermione sat primly on the bed.

Harry parted the curtain, and the first thing Hermione noticed was his face. He was smiling, but it wasn't a real smile. It was an I-Think-If-Something-Doesn't-Change-Soon-I'll-Throw-Up smile.

"You're awake."

"Yeah. Is Ron with you?"

"He doesn't know you're here."

"Oh. Who told you?"

"Quatre." Of course. Harry sat down in the chair Hermione's clothes had been in a moment ago. "He told us this morning, when we brought Heero and Daemon down here."

That would explain the false smile. There was no one Harry cared for more than his family. It was a Vanuli thing. It made Hermione a little wistful at the Good Old Days, when Hermione and Ron were all Harry really needed.

"Listen, I need to find Professor Dumbledore and talk to him about the—"

"Werewolves," Harry said. "Quatre already told him, last night after he found you."

"What about the—"

"Girl? Quatre told him about her, too." Hermione's face must have shown how confused she was. "Quatre got a vision when he touched you; he saw the whole thing. She took your wand."

"Who is she? What does she want?" Hermione knew Harry would know. He seemed to know everything nowadays.

"Her name is Kayla. She works for Dr. J, and she's a Death Eater." Hermione cussed. She only faintly knew who Dr. J was, but Death Eaters were always bad. "Exactly. The werewolves are Heero's allies. We haven't been able to get anything out of them, yet, because they haven't woken up—a combination of your _Petrificus_ and exhaustion at changing during the day—but we were able to figure out that Kayla was a prisoner. Dumbledore is having the house elves look out for her."

"Professor Dumbledore, Harry." Hermione didn't feel like lecturing about house elf rights just at the moment. "Who attacked Hogwarts?"

Harry blinked—then he laughed. A real, honest-to-God laugh. "That was just the best part of the day." Harry explained what happened, yesterday.

Hermione sighed. "Wow."

"Yeah."

Changing the subject, Hermione asked, "What announcement is Professor Dumbledore going to make?"

"I'm not sure, but I think it's whatever spin he's putting on what happened yesterday."

Hermione smiled. "Good. Walk me down?"

"Why not? One of us should be there." Hermione waited as Harry said his good-byes to Quatre, Catalonia, and Heero, who was actually awake at the moment.

"I'll be up after breakfast, okay?" The trio nodded, and Harry and Hermione were on their way.

PLF

_Where are they?_ Ron thought. His friends were missing. Well, Hermione was, at any rate. Ron had seen Harry going to the Hospital Wing with Heero and Rosencrantz this morning, but he hadn't seen Hermione since they split up yesterday. Ron fought a blush as he thought of their overreaction. Of course, no one had attacked Hogwarts! If they had, the Order would have been here so fast, Ron could have blinked and missed it. If Ron found the girl who started all that, he would have Ginny hex her.

Ron was the one who went to Dumbledore, so Ron knew what really happened. At least, a good portion of it. In just a few minutes, after most people were finished eating, Dumbledore was going to make an announcement, explaining as much of the truth as possible. Ron mostly wanted to know why Harry's cousins were still at Hogwarts, eating at the teacher's table, with flowers in their hair.

Dumbledore stood up, and the door to the Great Hall creaked open. Ron, like everybody else, couldn't decide where to look. His eyes went to the door, figuring Dumbledore would wait until whoever came in was seated.

It was Harry and Hermione. They hurried to the Gryffindor table, sitting on either side of Ron.

"What did we miss?" Harry whispered, getting settled.

"Nothing, yet," Ron whispered back. "Dumbledore was just about to start."

Harry nodded. Hermione was already looking expectantly at the Headmaster.

"Ah," Dumbledore said. "Now that we're all seated, I believe we can begin. First off, I would like to thank the quick action and thinking of many of you students yesterday. When faced with a choice, you chose the route that would save as many as possible. Fortunately, your actions were not needed. I will now turn the floor over to Mrs. Peacecraft, who will explain what actually happened, yesterday."

Dumbledore sat down, and the girl with long blonde hair stood up. Ron recognized her as one of the people—Vanuli—who interrupted Potions class back in October. She was one of Harry's cousins and part of his sub-family, whatever that was.

"Good morning," the girl said, "my name is Relena Peacecraft, and this is my wife Tashpi." She motioned to the severe-looking woman on her left. "We were married yesterday, illegally. You see, Tashpi was my Naiyama—my protector, for those of you who don't know—and as her Niamo, we were not allowed to have a romantic relationship. However, we did, and, though we tried to keep it secret until my eighteenth Life Day, it didn't work, and we were caught. In order to avoid the punishment, as deemed by our laws, we decided to go ahead and get married now."

Ron saw people smirking. How bad could the punishment be?

"The punishment calls for the death of the Naiyama, my Tashpi."

Oh. That bad.

"Vanuli are very strict on our laws, as strict as we are on our contracts. When the Crown Princess and the Grand High Director of the Enforcers—our military—learned of mine and Tashpi's relationship, they moved fast. Malefacent Mordal, the Director, mobilized the Enforcers to find me and Tashpi. They located us here. Thankfully, we had family that helped us out.

"Dorothy mobilized her bone golems, as many of you saw yesterday, to form a large wall. This, of course, didn't keep the Enforcers away for long, but it delayed them long enough for us to finish the ceremony. So, you see, the Enforcers weren't attacking Hogwarts. They were attacking, well, me."

Relena opened the floor, and there was a flood of questions, mostly from curious Ravenclaws.

Ron turned to Harry. "That's what you were doing yesterday?"

Harry nodded.

That had to have been rough. Ron squeezed Harry's shoulder. They didn't need to say anything more.

PLF

Harry, Ron, and Hermione, Gryffindor's _original_ Golden Trio, waited inside Dumbledore's office. Hermione and Ron, being Prefects, knew the password, so they were able to get in.

Harry sat down in a large, plaid chair. He hadn't seen it before, but he hadn't exactly been to see Professor Dumbledore in quite a long time. The last time was, oh, when Harry came to tell the Headmaster that the Death Eaters were planning to attack Hogsmeade. That had worked out splendidly, with Harry kidnapped and several student injured. None killed, though, thankfully.

Harry squirmed in his seat. He wasn't comfortable in here, anymore.

"What do you think's taking him so long?" Ron asked He was sitting next to Hermione in the matching loveseat to Harry's chair.

"I don't—"

Dumbledore walked into the office. "Hello. Hello," Dumbledore said. "What brings the three of you here? Would you like a lemon drop?"

"No, thank you," Hermione said for the three of them. "We need to discuss with you yesterday's events."

"Of course," Professor Dumbledore said. "It was a day of disasters, was it not? I was just in the Infirmary, talking to Mr. Yuy, Mr. Winner, and Miss Catalonia about that. Other than the wedding, of course, which I'm sure was conducted marvelously.

"I'm sure," Hermione said. "But I need to discuss the matter of my wand, and who has it. Rather, who doesn't have it: me."

"Yes," Dumbledore said. "I discussed this with Mr. Yuy—who knows the girl in question—and I think I've come up with a temporary solution." Dumbledore pulled out a box—from where, Harry didn't know—and gave it to Hermione. "This should do nicely, but remember, it's just a practice wand."

Professor Dumbledore handed Hermione the box. She gasped when she opened the lid. Harry realized why when she held up the wand. It looked exactly like her wand.

"No one needs to know it's not yours," Dumbledore said, eyes twinkling.

"No," Hermione said, clutching the wand close. "Nobody needs to know."

"So," Dumbledore said, eyes brightening, "was that all?"

"No," Harry said. "We want to know what you're doing about Kayla."

"All of the house elves, faculty and staff, and I believe, Miss Catalonia are on the lookout for Miss Guildenstern," Professor Dumbledore said.

"Thank you," Harry said, "for telling us."

"You're quite welcome. Now, run along. Your brothers need you."

PLF

Monday and Tuesday passed with Daemon still in stasis. On the third day, he awoke.

PLF

"Professor McGonagall and Trelawny both said they'd let you make up the exams," Hermione told Heero. For the past few days, Harry and Quatre were down here nonstop, their only break being classes. Hermione was finally able to get them to leave, but only if she promised to stay in their place.

"I'm not really worried about that," Heero admitted. "Exams aren't all that important to me."

Hermione wrung her hands. Nervous, she began fluffing Heero's pillow. "I know. I know. Just let me worry, okay?"

"All right," Heero sank down into his pillows. He was sitting upright with Daemon draped across his lap. Hermione wasn't sure how he got in that positions, nor did she know how he would get out of it.

"Tell me about what else has been going on," Heero said. "You know, all the hot gossip."

Hermione laughed. They both knew she wasn't really privy to the best gossip.

"Hannah Abbot found her boyfriend, Ernie McMillian, in bed with Justin Fitch-Fletchley." Okay, so she did know _some_ gossip. "Apparently, it wasn't the first time. They broke up, and now, she's dating Theodore Nott."

"A Hufflepuff and a Slytherin?" Heero said. "Unusual, but I guess it could work."

"Not according to Lavender and Parvati. They figure that Hannah and Ernie will be back together by the end of the week. They usually are."

It was Heero's turn to laugh.

"Tell me about Harry," Heero said. "He's been depressed this week, and I know it's not just because of mine and Daemon's situation."

Hermione chewed her lip. Heero would find out sooner or later. She might as well go ahead and tell him. "Harry and Zacharias got in this huge fight in Herbology, yesterday. Apparently, Zacharias saw Harry kiss another guy. Zacharias yelled that Harry was a whore; Harry yelled back that Zacharias was, and I quote, "a scum-sucking, bottom-feeding, eavesdropping, lying, spying wannabe crybaby who doesn't deserve to be in Hufflepuff," end quote."

"Go, Harry," Heero said under his breath.

"Yes," Hermione said, shifting in her seat. "Except that, now, anytime Harry does anything wrong, Hannah gives him a detention. He got three today, for sneezing near her."

"That bitch. I'll—"

"It's being taken care of," Hermione assured him. The truth was, Hermione didn't know exactly what was being done about it, only that Quatre and Catalonia were doing it. It made Hermione happy that someone was sticking up for Harry—but she wasn't about to admit that.

"Tell me about yourself," Hermione said. "What's it like to be a triplet?" Harry, when he spent time with her, never talked about it.

"It's—it's... I'm not sure how to describe it," Heero said. "I've known what I was since I was seven years old. But knowing and Knowing are two different things. Do you get what I mean?"

Hermione could imagine. Sort of like the time between getting her Hogwarts letter and actually coming to Hogwarts, to the nth degree.

"I think I do."

"And then I spent eight more years without magic or any contact with the Vanuli world." Hermione knew that something or someone took Heero's magic when he was little, but she wasn't sure what. "Then, I find Quatre, and I die." That was news. "We were in the Muggle War. I'm not sure if you knew that. I was pilot 01; Quatre was 04."

Hermione swallowed. That explained so much. "Does—does Harry know that?"

"Harry? Oh yeah. He knows everything. Everything."

Changing the subject, Hermione asked, "What happened when you met Quatre?"

"Beside's dying? I told him he was my brother and a Vanuli. He didn't believe me. It took him "killing" Trowa and injuring me for him to realize we were family."

"Wait. What? Killing?"

"When Quatre was on the Zero System, it made him do things. Trowa got in the way of him destroying L4. I did, too, but I was luckier. For a while, we thought Trowa—pilot 03—was dead. Luckily, we were wrong."

"Wow," Hermione said. "How is it that you could go through all of that and still be so _normal_?"

Heero chuckled. "I don't know. Just lucky, I guess. All of us were pretty lucky just to make it out alive."

"And now you get to fight in another war," Hermione said. She wasn't stupid. Far from it, actually. She knew Heero's prophecy, and she knew that he, Quatre, and Harry would fulfill it.

"We're blessed. What can I say?" Heero said.

A loud _crack_ diverted their attention away from their conversation. Hermione looked to the hard shell in Heero's lap. A long crack appeared in it, going from the top all the way down to the bottom. Hermione could see blue, filmy wings fluttering inside the shell. Fingers gripped the crack from the inside, scratching at the shell. The shell in Heero's lap began to rock back and forth. The whole process took less than a minute.

Daemon crawled out from the shell. Wings spouted from his back, and a thin film covered his naked body. The shell lay in pieces on Heero's lap. Heero said a spell, and the shell dissolved around his arms.

Daemon flexed his wings and yawned. He wiped the film from his eyes and said, "I'm hungry."

Hermione laughed.

PLF

Dorothy felt around with her spiders. Since Sunday—it was now Wednesday—Dorothy had been looking for one Kayla Guildenstern. Heero's wolves had awoken on Monday. They told Quatre everything they knew. J was in league with Voldemort. Several of his people were spying as Death Eaters. J had a device called a Cruciatus Imitator. And most important, J was growing his very own army.

Guildenstern would know more about the specifics, though. She was one of Them. She was of pretty high rank, too. And Heero knew her. He wanted her to be found.

"Bingo," Dorothy said. She found her prize.

PLF

Harry was supposed to be asleep, but he just couldn't settle down. His mind kept flashing back to his argument with Zacharias.

_"How could you do that to me!" Blue eyes flashed. Blond curls damp with sweat and dirt. _

_"I didn't—" Weak protests._

_"You did! You're a liar, Harry Potter! A liar and a whore!"_

Harry's eyes narrowed and his body tensed. He couldn't lie on the bed anymore. Harry levitated himself into the bedside chair, hoping not to wake Quatre.

No such luck.

"Come back to bed," Quatre said, clawing at the covers where Harry used to be.

"What for?" Harry jumped up and began pacing in front of the bed. "It's four in the afternoon, and I'm not sleepy. I'm angry. I just want to hit something!" Harry screamed. "Argh! How could he do that to me? He spied on me! I didn't even do anything wrong! I pushed Balor away, Goddamnit! I pushed him -away-!"

Arms circled around Harry as the tears—finally—started flowing. Harry sunk to the floor, bring Quatre with him. "I didn't do anything wrong."

Quatre kissed Harry's neck. "I know you didn't. Even if you had, he had no right to treat you that way."

Harry jumped up. "You know, you're right." He shoved his feet into his scuffed trainers. "And I'm going to tell him so. Right now."

Quatre stood up. "You can't _now_. We're supposed to be sleeping." Harry paid him no heed, throwing his robe on over the pajama pants and t-shirt he'd changed into after class. Quatre put on his shoes and robe, too, protesting the entire time. "What are we gong to do when Hermione asks us how we slept?"

Harry threw open the dormitory door. "Lie."

PLF

Heero sat in an uncomfortable hospital chair, beaming. He couldn't believe it. Daemon—no, _Kidayo_ was a Vanuli. A living, healthy, great big heap of Vanuli.

Daemon sat awkwardly on the bed, not quite used to the solid blue butterfly wings on his back. He'd put on a pair of thin, paperlike pajama bottoms Madam Pomfrey brought him upon learning he was awake. He ate the food she brought, too, consuming it with a gusto of a man who hadn't eaten in days. Which, technically, he hadn't, despite having absorbed magic and strength from the shell.

"Mmm, this is good," Daemon moaned, eating peas with his hand, not even bothering to use his fork. Daemon didn't like peas.

The wings were the most dramatic change to Daemon's body. But Heero noticed his eyes, too. A doe-eye brown all his life, Daemon's eyes were the deep Prussian blue of Heero's as soon as he emerged from the shell. They then paled, shifted to Quatre's ice blue eyes, then changed to a dark green, before finally settling in a misty form of all three. They were beautiful and looked exactly like Heero's and his brothers' when they Fused.

"How do you feel?" Heero asked, holding his chin with his hands.

He just couldn't believe it. He was a daddy. Sort of .

PLF

Kayla sighed and squished the spider. Necessarily, she had to stay in one of the oldest, most disused rooms. She moved around frequently, aware that a castle this big most likely had a multitude of house elves, and that those house elves were most likely out for her blood. She always chose exactly the same type of room, old, dusty, with a whole horde of spiders and cobwebs.

Kayla ate them—the spiders, not the cobwebs—because, although she was used to not eating much when she was little, she was used to more regular meals nowadays. The spiders didn't taste too bad, as long as she killed them before she ate them. After years of MREs—Meals Ready to Eat, the military equivalent of dry rocks—anything would taste good.

There was a sound outside the door, and Kayla tensed. This room was in a more well-traveled corridor than the others, and people had been passing this room all day. This was probably the same thing, but she readied herself. Just in case.

She wasn't ready. The door blew in out of its frame, smashing the table next to her. Kayla hunkered down, trying to make herself small, but it didn't work. She saw the girl—Dorothy Catalonia, seventeen years-old, father deceased, raised by grandfather, and the triplet's fierce Naiyama—through the cracks in the table. There was no way Kayla could fight her. The best thing to do would be to Just. Give. Up.

Like Hell.

Kayla jumped up, yelling the _Petrificus_ Spell. Before she got out of the first syllable, Kayla felt a bubble form around her. Her body was tossed like a rag doll into the nearest wall. She hit her head, but she wasn't knocked unconscious. She was stronger than that.

Catalonia knew this.

Catalonia stood over Kayla. She held a large spider on the back of her hand, petting it. "Oh, the itsy, bitsy spider went up the water spout," she sang. "Down cam the rain and washed the spider out. Out came the sun and dried up all the rain. And the itsy, bitsy spider went up the spout again." Catalonia let the spider drop on Kayla as she dropped down to her knees. "Oh, I know _just_ what to do with you."

PLF

Harry stalked down the staircase just off the main hall. Quatre followed behind him, stalking more quietly. Harry wasn't sure where the Hufflepuff common room was located, so when he reached the corridor, he just started blasting paintings—left and right—with a Vanuli "open" command. He didn't know the password, either.

"Denaygo!" Harry yelled, and a painting of the Headless Horseman—the British, correct, version—exploded out of its frame. "Denaygo!" A horse on its two hind legs went flying. "Denaygo!" Three witches playing poker fell. Harry come to a picture of a large badger. "Denaygo," he whispered.

The portrait opened, revealing the bustling common room within. Harry stepped in, Quatre on his tail.

Harry smiled—it was not a good smile—and grabbed the nearest boy. "Go get Zacharias Smith. I want to talk to him."

The boy gulped but went to do as Harry bid. Harry flopped into a suddenly vacated chair. He sank down in the chair and waited for Zacharias to come.

Selune

A.N. I've got 8 votes on who to pair Harry with, so far. I'll keep it open once more, but on chapter 44, I'll start on his pairing.


	44. Of Boyfriends and Boxes

Disclaimer: I do not own any things Harry Potter—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to the wonderful J. K. Rowling and whomever else she decides. I do not own anything Gundam Wing—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to (I think) Bandai and Sunrise.

Spoilers: This fic contains spoilers for books 1-5 of Harry Potter and all of the episodes of Gundam Wing. This fic does not include Endless Waltz.

Rating: R

Pairings: Neville/Harry, 2x1, Relena/OFC, OMCx4, Zacharias/Harry, OMC/Harry

Category: crossover, fantasy, general, drama

Author: Selune

Author's site: 

Summary: Two years ago, the One Year War ended. At this time, the five heroes—the Gundam pilots—disappeared from the Muggle world. Three of them—pilots 02, 03, and 05—reappeared shortly after in the Wizarding world, as students at Hogwarts School of Witchraft and Wizardry. Now, twenty months after the fact, Heero Yuy and Quatre Winner are coming to Hogwarts, and they're bringing all of their secrets with them. The world—especially one Harry Potter—will never be the same.

Peace, Love, and Family:

The Story of the Vanuli Three

Chapter 43: Of Boyfriends and Boxes

Zacharias lay in his bed, reading _Quidditch Weekly_. He was supposed to be revising for Charms—he'd scored a Troll on the last exam, and Hannah would kill him if he did a repeat—but he just didn't feel like it. Thinking of Charms made him think of Charms class, which, inevitably, led to thinking of Harry, since they had Charms with the Gryffindors. Thinking of Harry did bad things to Zacharias's stomach, so he tried to avoid it as much as possible.

Quidditch usually solved all of Zacharias's thinking problems. Of course, thinking of Quidditch made Zacharias think of _playing_ Quidditch, which made him think of playing against Harry, which made him think about just plain Harry. Which brought Zacharias back to square one—with a few new fantasies.

_Mmm, Harry in Quidditch robes. His tight, little ass, riding his broom._ From the way he did it, Zacharias just _knew_ Harry could ride _his_ broom like a pro.

_No! Bad Zacharias!_ Zacharias yelled at himself. He jumped out of his bed and began pacing. _You're supposed to be thinking about-about—NOT Harry!_ Zacharias slumped into the chair beside his bed and put his head in his hands. _I can't do this._

There was a tentative knock at the door—quiet, like whoever it was wasn't sure if he wanted anybody to answer.

"Come in," Zacharias called. He turned to his desk, straightening his papers, as if he hadn't just been pacing the floor like a madman.

"Z-Zacharias?" It was Eddie McGriffin, a third year. He was Zacharias's first cousin on his mother's side, a Muggle born. He was a good kid, but a bit of a stutterer.

"Hey, Eddie."

"P-Potter and W-Winner are here. Potter wants to t-talk to you."

Zacharias sighed. Why would Harry want to talk to him? Surely they'd said—screamed—all they needed to in Herbology.

"Would you send him down?" If Harry wanted to talk, Zacharias would talk.

PLF

Harry sat in the chair, and Zacharias sat on his bed. They'd decided it was better to sit down for this discussion.

An awkward silence overcame them, as Harry thought of what to say. He'd expended most of his anger blowing up portrait after portrait, and now he was left with this empty feeling in the pit of his stomach. He didn't like it.

"Harry, I—" "Zacharias—" they said at the same time. They broke off and looked away from one another. Just when Harry thought the silence would kill him, he spoke, surprising himself, "Zacharias, I owe you an apology."

"I—What?" Zacharias did a double take. "Um, why?"

Harry jumped up and paced in front of Zacharias. He made no eye contact, whatsoever. "I did cheat on you. I kissed someone—but it's not who you think. Balor is a friend, and he was just comforting me after a...familial dispute. You don't need to know what it was—let's just say me and my mother had words. Balor kissed me, but I pushed him away, you see. I don't think of him like that, even thought he is a very attractive man with very nice arms. But—"

"Harry. Where are you going with this?"

Harry stood stock still. He realized he'd been babbling. "I kissed Neville." He sat in the chair.

"Oh." Zacharias looked crestfallen. "Was this before or after I called you a whore?"

Harry fingered the hem of his robe. "Before."

"I see."

Harry couldn't let the silence go on any longer. "I'm sorry! I understand if you don't want to be with me, anymore, but you have to understand. I like you, but I love Neville. I probably always will. I can't just shut if off. When he kissed me, there was that spark that's always there, but I was thinking about you the whole time, and how wrong it was to be with you and kiss him."

Zacharias didn't say anything. He just sat there, looking stunned.

"Please, say something."

Zacharias looked at his hands. "I don't know what you want me to say, Harry. I should be angry, upset, like I was when I saw you kiss that guy, but I can't seem to feel much of anything."

"Do you still want to be with me?" Harry asked.

"Did you ever want to be with me?" Zacharias countered.

"I-I don't know."

"Me, either," Zacharias answered. "Why don't you just go now, okay? We'll talk later, when-when I've gotten everything sorted."

Harry briefly closed his eyes. "Okay. If that's what you want." Zacharias nodded. Harry stood up. He leaned down and kissed Zacharias's forehead. "Let's meet Friday. Say, nine o'clock, in the old D.A. room?" Zacharias nodded. "Okay, then."

Harry walked out of the room. Before the door clicked shut, he could have sworn he heard crying.

PLF

"You're awfully quiet," Quatre said to Harry. They were walking back to Gryffindor Tower. Harry hadn't said a word since the, "Let's go," back at the Hufflepuff dungeons.

"I'm just thinking," Harry sighed, "about Zacharias. I think we're over."

Inside, Quatre was gleeful. He felt guilty at being happy, but that was how he felt, and that wasn't about to change. Smith wasn't good enough for Harry. Plus, he creeped out Quatre. His spying on Harry didn't exactly help, either.

"You don't love him, do you?" Quatre asked, carefully. Even though _he_ didn't like Zacharias, Harry did. It was best to be sensitive about these things.

"Mother, no!" Quatre silently thanked God. "But I do like him. It would be a shame to lose another boyfriend so quickly. At least, Neville took two months to break up with me." Harry laughed. "I'm horrible with guys. Maybe I should've stuck to girls."

"God, no!" Quatre exclaimed. "With all their girly bits and everything. Disgusting. Besides, we were made gay. Dr. J didn't want his weapons having breeder babies." Quatre walked a little faster, to give Harry some time to process that.

"Wait. What? Breeder babies?" Harry ran to catch up with Quatre. "What do you mean?"

Quatre stopped, making Harry stop, too. "Dr. J made all of us gay, so we wouldn't breed and make genetically inferior children. It was in his notes. I read most of them when we were at the compound. Heero has the hard copies, if you want to take a look."

"So we're all gay?"

"Supposed to be."

"That's just great!" Harry threw up his hands. "Just one more thing for me to be different at."

Quatre threaded his arm through Harry's and started them walking again. "You're mostly gay. You just have this teeny, _tiny_ part of you that—"

"AH-CHOO!" Harry's body jerked with the force of his sneeze.

"Are you all right?" Quatre turned to look at Harry. There was a spider dangling from the end of his nose.

Brushing the spider off, Harry nodded. "Yeah. It just tried to crawl up my nose. Dorothy wants us to go to the Room of Requirement."

"What for?" Harry must have had a vision.

"She's found that girl."

PLF

Heero helped Daemon sit back down. They'd just came back from the bathroom—Daemon had to lean on Heero the entire way there and back, on account of his new wings. It wasn't unusual for newly Turned Vanuli to sprout wings—or tentacles or antennae—but it wasn't exactly common, either. The fact that Daemon grew solid blue butterfly wings must have some significance, but Heero didn't know what it was.

And he didn't care, as long as they got the wings back inside Daemon, and he could walk on his own, again.

"I'm going to go," Hermione said, once Daemon was seated. She gave Heero a hug, then hesitated a moment before wrapping her arms around Daemon, too. Daemon didn't know how to respond, Heero could tell, because it took him a moment before he hugged her back.

"Good-bye, Hermione," Heero said.

"Good-bye." She left the Infirmary.

Once she was gone, Heero turned back to Daemon. "Okay. Let's see about making your wings go away."

PLF

"So you don't have anything to say?" Dorothy looked down at Kayla. Kayla sat in an old wooden chair, magicked to remain strong through the centuries. Her legs were bound to the chair legs, her arms to the chair arms, and her head was pulled back by a metal ring, attached to the top of the chair. The bindings were made of Gundanium, and the chair was magicked to neither fall over nor break.

"No?" Dorothy asked, innocence in her eyes. She smiled when her prisoner didn't answer. "Good." Dorothy tapped her wand to the device on Kayla's chest. The _Cruciatus_ Imitator turned on. Kayla's screams were beautiful to Dorothy's ears.

Dorothy got the _Cruciatus_ Imitator from Roun before the pack left Hogwarts proper to go back into the Forbidden Forest.

Dorothy turned it off. Kayla's screams died down.

"Now, tell me where Dr. J is. Or Voldemort. Either/Or." Dorothy got right up in Kayla's face. "Tell me, you bitch!"

"I'll tell you nothing, you Vanuli whore! My master will be. Safe. From. You."

Dorothy caressed Kayla's Dark Mark. "Do you know what the Aurors will do to you, once I turn you over to them?"

"They'll do nothing compared to what J would do to me if I revealed his headquarters."

Dorothy breathed in Kayla's ear. "And Dr. J is a pussycat compared to me in a bad mood." She drew back. "Do you know what puts me in a bad mood?" A pause. "The mere thought that there are people out there who want to hurt my dear, sweet boys makes my blood boil in anger. The fact that one of them got into Hogwarts makes me feel as though I'm not doing my job." Dorothy trailed a finger down Kayla's jawline.

"When my job's not done, I fear for my children's safety. They are everything to me. To protect them, I would kill everyone in this school, this country, this world. Starting with you." Dorothy raised her hand, and Kayla's eyes widened in fear.

Dorothy smiled at the _crunch_ as Kayla's left foot shattered. "But I'll play with you, first."

PLF

_Heero?_ Harry thought, as he and Quatre ran down the corridor. _Heero, we need you!_

Suddenly, Harry could see through Heero's eyes. He was in still in the Infirmary. He was looking at Daemon, who was out of his shell! The two of them were trying to get rid of Daemon's beautiful, gossamer wings. Heero looked up.

_Harry? What's going on? Where are you?_

_Dorothy found Guildenstern. She's torturing her in the Room of Requirements. Quatre and I are going there, now. Can you make it?_

Heero looked at Daemon. _I'm not sure. Daemon can't walk like this._

_Then fly!_ Quatre broke in. _Surely, those wings are useful for something._

_Why didn't I think of that?_ Heero thought. _We'll be there in a few._

Harry pulled back from Heero's mind. He panted as he ran, trying to catch his breath.

"You know," Harry said, "we could fly, too. It would be much quicker."

As expected, Quatre turned him down.

PLF

With Harry and Quatre running and Heero and Daemon flying, the four of them reached the Room of Requirement at about the same time.

Heero reached for the door—Harry noticed he wasn't out of breath—and flew into the room. Daemon flew in, with Harry and Quatre following behind.

"Stop!" Heero yelled, landing. "Stop it!"

Dorothy turned around. At least, Harry thought it was Dorothy. She was blonde—as usual—but it was a yellower blonde. Her face was different, less severe than normal. Of course, the big difference was the six spider legs spilling out of her ripped robe, raising her three feet in the air. Sort of like Dr. Octopus in the American comics Dudley used to like.

"Hello, my sweets," Dorothy cooed.

Uh oh. Baby talk and "precious" nicknames always meant one thing: Dorothy was in Crazy Mode. She was Super Naiyama (dun dun DUH).

"Come here, Dorothy," Heero said in a voice that a person might use to soothe a dog before it went Cujo on his arse.

"But I'm playing, darling," Dorothy said, still in that saccharine voice. "Whatever it is can wait, I'm sure. Unless...are you hurt?" Dorothy's eyes flared red. "Did somebody hurt you?" Her voice—no longer sugar-sweet—dropped about three octaves.

"No, no, we're fine. Right?" Harry and Quatre nodded. Heads would roll, if Dorothy thought somebody hurt her babies.

"Then what is it?" She cooed, again.

"I want you to stop playing with Kayla," Heero said.

"She would have hurt you," Dorothy said. "Given the chance, she would kill you or take you back to Dr. J."

"It's not her fault," Heero insisted. "I've been thinking on it, and I think I know how to fix it. Fix her."

Dorothy rolled her eyes. "I'm the Naiyama, and I know what's best for you—and her."

"What's best for me is not having one of my childhood friends murdered because she's been conditioned to think a certain way!" Heero yelled.

Daemon gasped, and Harry turned to look at him. He was still flying—more like fluttering in place, which Harry hadn't known those kinds of wings could do. The look in his eyes told Harry he'd just figured something out.

"What is it?" Harry asked him, but Daemon just shook his head.

"My baby, you just don't understand these things. Guildentstern is a _bad person_. She works for Dr. J. She's a Death Eater, too, for Mother's sake!"

"I would be, too, if I were in her place," Heero said. "So would Daemon and Harry and Quatre, if they hadn't gotten out when they did. J does things to people, bad things, that change them. But we can reverse the changes. We can change her _back_."

"Oh, Heero—" Dorothy began.

"NO!" Heero screamed. The magic of the room wavered and, for a moment, Harry saw the room as it really was. Empty, unlike any other room in the castle, save for the one lone chair Guildenstern was sitting on.

"What do you suggest we do, then?" Harry asked before anyone else could say anything.

"We should put her in the Box—"

Guildenstern, silent until that point, began screaming, "You son-of-a-bitch! I won't go in—"

Heero spoke over her. "The Box will reverse her conditioning. I'm sure of it."

Dorothy deflated—literally. Her spider legs turned back into human legs, and she was lowered back to the floor. "Fine." Very grudging. "How are we going to find one of these boxes?"

"Look around us" Heero said. "What room are we in?"

PLF

Heero walked back in the Room of Requirement, the last one in. Because of the magic of the room—though Heero couldn't say exactly why—the room wouldn't change when people were in it.

Quatre had left. He was summoned by his vampires. Finally, they were back to report on their findings. Of course, it might not matter that much, once Kayla was turned back to their side.

If she was turned back to their side. She had to be. Heero just knew it would work!

Heero sneaked a glance at the Box. It looked just like he remembered. Well, before he smashed it to little bits. It was tall and black. It looked like it was made of glass, but he couldn't see through it. His face reflected off of it, like with a scrying mirror. The shape was like an upside-down egg, with the little part at the bottom.

Heero looked away. Daemon hadn't even looked at it.

"Put her in," Heero told Dorothy. Kayla was unconscious and in one of Dorothy's bubbles, to keep her from escaping or drawing anyone's attention their way.

Dorothy opened the door and placed her in it. All they had to do now was wait.

Heero went to Daemon and, once more, began trying to get Daemon's wings to disappear.

PLF

"My master," Lillith said, bowing. She kissed the back of Quatre's hand and brought it to her forehead. Azrael, Echo, and Rastafarian echoed her, bowing low to the ground. This used to make Quatre uncomfortable, but it was just how the vampires were.

"What do you have to tell me, child?" Quatre asked, cupping Lillith's face in his hands.

"We have much to tell you, your Grace," Lillith said.

"Much," Echo echoed.

PLF

Kayla was bombarded with images from her past.

_"We have to get him out," Kayla said. "We can't just leave him in there. She was talking about Heero. He was in the Box. The Box was bad. The Box would take Heero from them._

Flash.

_"Heero is dead!" Caitlyn yelled. Bodies littered the floor. _

_Heero had done it. They got him out of the Box, and he repaid them by turning his magic lights on them._

Flash.

_"I love you," Caitlyn said. She was very drunk. The war was over. "I always have."_

_That night, they made love for the first time._

Flash.

_"Why are you doing this?" Caitlyn cried. There was blood. So much blood._

_"Because my master wishes it." She was a weapon. A weapon, like Omega-12 was. A Perfect Weapon._

_"NO!"_ she shouted. _I am a person. I have a name!_

Flash.

_"Kill them," Dr. J said. He was the wielder, and Omega-2 would do everything he said._

_"Yes, master."_

Kill.

_Lucas._

Kill.

_Katydid._

Kill.

_Gatlin._

Kill.

_Samantha._

Kill.

_Aiden._

Kill.

_Holly._

Kill.

_Josh._

Kill.

_Jack._

Kill.

_Caitlyn_.

"NOOO!"

PLF

"NOOO!"

It sounded like someone dying—Heero looked up—he'd finally gotten Daemon's wings back in by acting as a catalyst. The door to the Box swung open, and Kayla stumbled out, falling on her broken foot.

Her face was red, tear tracks down her cheeks. She was soaking wet, from the water in the Box. She fell to the floor, and dry sobs wracked her body.

Heero conjured a towel and went to her. He tried to wrap it around her body, but she wouldn't allow it. He gave up and sat by her. She flung herself at him, clinging to him like a limpet.

"I killed them," she sobbed. "I killed them all."

PLF

Quatre stumbled back into the castle, dazed by the information his vampires had given him.

He couldn't believe it. Voldemort was Vanuli.

PLF

Kayla sat in the Hospital Wing, where Heero and Daemon had brought her after her reconditioning. They sat with her until visiting hours were over (and even a little bit after), even though she hadn't said a word since crying on Heero.

She couldn't believe everything that happened in the past year—everything she'd done in the past year. Caitlyn was dead. All of Omega was dead, except for herself, Heero, and Daemon, and they were outcasts. To return to Dr. J would be to be put to death.

Not that Kayla would ever return to him. He'd made her kill the love of her life, all because Caitlyn fought her programming and wouldn't follow J's plan to work with You-Know-Who. None of the others would. Only Kayla.

She looked at her left wrist. It was bandaged, but she knew what was under it. The Dark Mark. She was one of his, a Death Eater.

Earlier, she tried to scratch it off, resulting in many broken fingernails and a very bloody wrist. But the Mark was still there, laughing at her.

Kayla looked away, to a picture on the far wall. It was a landscape. Just a hill and valley, but it was beautiful. The sky moved, big, fluffy clouds rolling across the landscape. Kayla liked it.

She looked at the picture, determined not to think about her situation. She would not cry.

She didn't deserve to.

Selune


	45. Zacharias Loves Harry

Disclaimer: I do not own any things Harry Potter—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to the wonderful J. K. Rowling and whomever else she decides. I do not own anything Gundam Wing—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to (I think) Bandai and Sunrise.

Spoilers: This fic contains spoilers for books 1-5 of Harry Potter and all of the episodes of Gundam Wing. This fic does not include Endless Waltz.

Rating: R

Pairings: Neville/Harry, 2x1, Relena/OFC, OMCx4, Zacharias/Harry, OMC/Harry

Category: crossover, fantasy, general, drama

Author: Selune

Author's site: 

Summary: Two years ago, the One Year War ended. At this time, the five heroes—the Gundam pilots—disappeared from the Muggle world. Three of them—pilots 02, 03, and 05—reappeared shortly after in the Wizarding world, as students at Hogwarts School of Witchraft and Wizardry. Now, twenty months after the fact, Heero Yuy and Quatre Winner are coming to Hogwarts, and they're bringing all of their secrets with them. The world—especially one Harry Potter—will never be the same.

Peace, Love, and Family:

The Story of the Vanuli Three

Chapter 44: Zacharias Loves Harry

Friday, December 13, AC 198

8 PM

DADA classroom

_Bang-pop!_

"Shit!" Harry yelled. "I'm never going to get this right."

Heero rolled his eyes and went over to help his pouting brother. Even though it was Friday, the triplets were in Remus's room, practicing their defenses—and their offenses. Harry—try as he might—could not quite figure out how to use his Fury Shooters effectively. It was Heero's job to make sure he learned, and learned well. Especially now, with everything that Kayla told them.

Heero shuddered. He cast the Repairing Charm and sent the block of Gundanium back to the bench.

"You're forcing it too much," Heero said. He lay his hand on Harry's shoulder. "Try to think of a thermometer. If you get too hot or use too much force, it'll result in—well, you saw what the results are." A Fury Shooter exploding inside a block of Gundanium was not a pretty sight. Heero was just glad they were practicing with Gundanium, so it could absorb a lot of the magic. Any other metal would have destroyed this room, if not this entire side of the castle. "Try to imagine it at 80°. That should give you enough force without making it blow up."

Harry huffed. He'd been in an increasingly bad mood all day. Heero didn't know what Harry's problem was. Maybe it had something to do with exams?

"Fine," Harry said. "It's not like I can get any worse, can I?" Harry sat back in his chair and closed his eyes. He was meditating—at least, he was supposed to be. Fury Shooters took a lot of concentration to produce the first few times. It had taken Heero five years to learn how to use his mother's Fury Shooters and another three months to use his own. He didn't think Harry would have quite as much trouble with it. Their power was growing.

Harry produced a small yellow ball of light between his hands. A Fury Orb. It slowly grew in size as Harry drew his hands apart. Good. Harry opened his eyes, and the Orb began to flicker. Bad. Harry stabilized the Orb. Good. He put his hands by his side, and the Fury Orb began to move, becoming a Fury Shooter. The Fury Shooter danced around Harry's arm, moving slowly as Harry got a feel for it. It flickered blue, but that was okay. Heero had made his look like a disco ball, once. The Fury Shooter danced itself up to Harry's head. He was about to send it on its mission, Heero could tell. The Shooter flickered yellow, and—

"I did it!"

—disappeared in a poof.

"Damn it, Quatre!" Heero yelled, turning around. "Just what did you—oh."

On the other side of the room, surrounded by Dorothy and Daemon, Quatre stood. As a girl.

PLF

He did it! He did it! He Changed all by himself!

Quatre felt like dancing. He tried to but stopped very quickly, as his unbound breasts flopped all over the place. For such a small person—5'7", 130 pounds—he had surprisingly big boobs. They were at least C's. He felt himself up, laughing.

He did it!

He was grabbed and spun around. He spun with Daemon, grabbing his brother-nephew's biceps for support.

"You did it!" Daemon laughed. He knew how hard it was for Quatre to Change. They'd discussed it some a little while ago. Switching sexes might not be the biggest Change in the world, but it was something. They stopped spinning, and Quatre looked up into Daemon's eyes. There was something there...

"Well, let me see you!" Dorothy cried, grabbing Quatre. He dutifully turned around, and she launched herself into his arms. "Oh, Quatre, I'm so happy for you."

Quatre just laughed.

PLF

Harry plastered a smile on his face and went to congratulate Quatre, leaving his own failure behind. Everybody else—including Remus, who really didn't need to be there to watch over them anymore but came anyway—was already there, telling Quatre how proud they were of him.

Harry hugged his brother, holding him close. "You did good, kitten."

"You'll get yours, too. No problem."

Harry had to smile. Even in his concentration, Quatre noticed him having trouble with his Fury Shooters. Harry was usually pretty good at them. He didn't know what was wrong with him.

No, that was a lie. He knew exactly what was wrong with him. There were several problems. First of all, he was meeting Zacharias in less than an hour. He would learn if Zacharias still wanted to date him. To tell the truth, Harry wasn't sure what he wanted Zacharias to say. He didn't want Zacharias to be angry with him, but he was just so tired of the distrust and jealousy. He had enough of that with Neville.

His second problem was, as always, Voldemort. Because of Harry, Voldemort was Vanuli. A very powerful Vanuli. The more powerful the Vanuli Turner was—and the more powerful the Turnee was before hand—the more powerful a new Vanuli became. Harry was one of the three most powerful Vanuli to ever live, and Voldemort was no slouch in the magic department. Adding that together made Voldemort a very formidable enemy, one much stronger than if he was only human. The funny thing was, Voldemort didn't even know he was Vanuli until Dr. J told him. Without meaning to—all because he hated Harry that much—he gave himself half a chance of actually winning the war.

Which brought Harry to his next problem: Dr. J. Rather, Dr. J and Voldemort, together. Which they were. Together. Dr. J and Voldemort had gone ahead and partnered up, blowing to bits any possibility that the war would be an easy win for Harry and his brothers. Dr. J had amassed—grown—an army of great proportions. In addition to the soldiers he had during the Muggle War, J created many—many—Echo-Thetas. The Echo-Thetas were the daughters of the Thetas, the beautiful Acromantula Homomagi Heero killed when he was only twelve. And, according to Guildenstern, they were hopping mad, just chewing at the bit to get their hands—legs, whatever—on the Vanuli who killed their mothers and any allies he had.

Harry sighed. There wasn't much he could do about that, yet. Just practice and practice and try to get as strong as he possibly could be, so that on March 15th, he could—finally—kill Voldemort and rid the world of the bastard shol-va.

"Harry?"

Harry jumped as a hand came down on his shoulder. "Yes, Heero?"

"We're going to practice jumping our visions now. Maybe we can actually join them, tonight."

"Oh, okay." Harry walked over to where Quatre was sitting on the floor. He plopped down on a rug beside his brother. "So, what are we Seeing tonight?"

PLF

Harry lay his head against the stone wall, resting his eyes for just a moment. He and his brothers had been able to jump their visions just fine (after months of practice, Harry would be very worried, indeed, if they weren't able to), but they just could not figure out how to join them.

According to the texts they'd read—plus the ones Hermione told them about, which was a lot for a girl who didn't believe in divinations—a triumvirate who could join their visions would be very powerful. All the books, but especially the first, Seeing and Beyond: The Truth of Group Divining, was written by a man named Reginald Archibaldy, and explained the process the best.

Even though no one had ever joined a vision before, there was one school of though on them. From observing triumvirates who could jump visions, experts concluded that a small power force resulted exactly in the center of the triumverate. Archibaldy, a Divinations master and a prophet of some renown, studied the phenomenon from 1406 to 1496. He died at 113 years old, practically a Squib. His subjects' power, however, seemed to grow over the years. This caused other experts to speculate over the course of the remaining years. The current theory was this: Jumping visions causes a sort of magic magnet in the circle of the triumvirate. This magnet attracts the magic of those in the near vicinity, and spreads it out equally amongst the members of the triumvirate. Beliefs about joining visions ranges from the theory that it would create only a slightly larger magnet, to the theory that it would create a veritable magic black hole, sucking all the magic in, growing in size until it covered the world—and possibly beyond—or until the triumvirate broke out of the vision.

Harry thought it was somewhere in between, but the practical applications could be astounding. Definitely "a power the Dark Lord knows not."

"Sleepy?"

Harry jumped, opening his eyes. He rubbed his eyes and smiled at Zacharias. "Just a little. I've been...in tutoring with R-Professor Lupin."

"So you have," Zacharias said. "Shall we?" The door to the Room of Requirement appeared, and they went in.

Of course, they didn't need it to look like it did when the D.A. was held there, so it didn't. Two overstuffed chairs sat in front of a roaring fireplace, turned partially towards one another. Harry sat down in the one that faced the door, as Zacharias gawked at the room.

"Wha—?"

"It's called the Room of Requirement," Harry explained. "It gives you what you need. Right now, we need this. Don't tell anybody."

"Oh. Okay." Zacharias sat in the other chair.

They stared at the fire for a few minutes as an awkward silence came over them. Harry couldn't stand it anymore.

"So?" he asked. "Do you want to be with me or not?"

Zacharias sighed. "You're a subtle one, Harry."

"Okay, so I'm not the best at these things," Harry said, getting riled up. Zacharias didn't have to make fun of him. He could have tact, if he wanted to. He just didn't want to.

Zacharias put his hands up, as if to stop Harry. "Don't get so defensive; I didn't mean anything by it."

"Then you shouldn't have said it."

"I said I was sorry!"

"No, you didn't!"

Before Harry could think, Zacharias was up from his chair, grabbed Harry from his, and thoroughly snogged him.

"What was that for?" Harry asked, hand coming up to touch his lips.

"That was the only way I could think to shut you up." Zacharias crossed his arms. "And that's my answer."

"To what?"

"To what? I still want to date you, you jackass!" Zacharias yelled.

"How was I supposed to know that!" Harry yelled back.

"It's not like I just go around snogging guys I'm about to dump!"

"Why not?"

"Why not?" Zacharias repeated.

"Yeah. Why not?" Harry said. "I mean, why don't you just kiss me and leave? It wouldn't be the first time this has happened to me."

"What do you mean?" Zacharias asked.

Harry thought it was pretty obvious. "I'm not good at this." Harry scrunched up his eyes behind his glasses. He. Would. Not. Cry. "Neville fucked me before he dumped me."

"That bastard. I'll kill him!" Zacharias moved to storm from the room.

Harry grabbed him. "No, don't. I knew he would leave me. I just wanted him more than I wanted my virginity."

Zacharias turned around. He held Harry and made him feel safe. Harry lay his head on Zacharias's shoulder. He sniffled quietly.

Thinking about Neville just hurt so _much_.

"You're crying," Zacharias said.

"No'm not." Sniffle.

Zacharias lifted Harry's chin up. Harry tried to stop him, but he failed. Zacharias leaned down, and Harry closed his eyes.

"I would never do that to you."

Their kiss was slow. Beautiful.

"I love you." Zacharias squeezed Harry tighter. "I'll never let you go."

Harry's eyes flew open. Zacharias _loved_ him. Zacharias loved _him_. But Harry didn't love Zacharias.

_Oh, shit._

PLF

Zacharias whistled all the way back to Hufflepuff. _First fight, overted._ He'd even told Harry he loved him. Somehow, he was able to keep from saying all of the mushier stuff that tried to come out. But just barely.

Zacharias had had a crush on Harry since second year, when he made friends with Ginny Weasley. Through Ginny—before she stopped talking to him, somewhere around Christmas—he learned about Harry. He'd never thought of Harry much before that, not even to be horrified at his ability to speak Parseltongue. He couldn't be the Heir of Slytherin. Zacharias knew that from the beginning, no matter what Ernie thought. Harry was too pure and kind and...sweet. It was Zacharias, not Ginny, who sent Harry the singing valentine that year.

By third year, his crush was turning into much more than a crush. He even joined the Quidditch team, just so he could play against Harry, even if they weren't playing directly against one another, what with Cedric already being Seeker and all. The clincher—the day Zacharias knew he was in love—was that fateful game that year. Seeing Harry fall from his broom was the worst thing he had ever seen in his young life. He was in love.

The only person he told was Cedric Diggory. Cedric's dad was Zacharias's dad's best friend. They grew up together, and despite their age difference, they were very close. Cedric's death hit Zacharias hard, and for a little while, he hated Harry.

The hate didn't last very long, only a few months, but it did its damage. The first words Zacharias ever said to Harry were mean, hateful put-downs. At least, that's how he remembered it. His first chance to talk to Harry, and Zacharias hurt him. Not even that, because Harry didn't care what Zacharias thought of him. He. Didn't. Care.

After that, Zacharias tried to be nicer, but he just couldn't. Being nice to Harry got him ignored, just like the rest of Harry's adoring fans. Zacharias needed Harry's attention, so he fought with him to get it.

But all that was over now. He and Harry were together, like they were meant to be. Harry knew Zacharias loved him, and even though Harry didn't say it back, Zacharias knew it was only a matter of time.

Zacharias walked into the common room. It was louder than normal, probably owing to the fact that exams were over, and everyone would be leaving tomorrow.

"What's going on?" Zacharias asked. Ernie and Justin, who were sitting in the most comfortable chairs, staring at the girls' dorms. "Waiting for Hannah and Susan?" Ernie and Hannah got back together yesterday—big surprise—and Justin and Susan had been dating for two weeks.

"No. Yeah. Sort of," Justin said.

"Well, that makes it clear," Zacharias said.

"What Justin means to say is that we have a new girl. Professor Sprout brought her down about thirty minutes ago. She's a seventh year, like us," Ernie said. "Hannah and Susan are trying to talk to her, but she seems pretty quiet."

"For the, oh, two second that we saw her."

Ernie punched Justin in the arm. "Sarcasm doesn't look good on you, Justin. Leave that to Zacharias, here. He's a natural."

"Oh, hardy, har, har." Zacharias sat down. "So, what are we doing, waiting for them?"

Justin nodded.

"And where exactly have _you_ been?" Ernie smiled lecherously. "Out with a new beau?"

"No." Zacharias hit Ernie upside the head and smiled. "I've been with Harry."

PLF

Kayla sat on her bed, contemplating life. Just three days ago, she was a weapon intent on killing or kidnapping Heero. She was a Death Eater and part of Dr. J's vast arsenal. Now, she was just a witch, a broken weapon who wasn't good for anything anymore, except information.

That was the only reason Dumbledore hadn't turned her over to the Aurors. The Dark Mark on her wrist and another mark on the back of her hand would have gotten her Azkaban for sure. Death-Eater. Omega-2. She wasn't either, anymore. At least, she didn't want to be.

Kayla told Dumbledore everything she knew about the Dark Lord, but he didn't even know about Dr. J's involvement. She kept that to herself, telling only Daemon and Heero the first and only time they came to visit her in the Hospital Wing. She also told them about what she did. She killed nine of the only eleven people she ever cared about.

"Hey. You."

Kayla looked over at the blonde girl in pigtails. She didn't answer.

The girl put out her hand. "I'm Hannah. Abbot. The Head Girl. This here's Susan." The brunette waved. "Who are you?"

Kayla looked away. She didn't feel much like inane chatter.

"Well, that's rude!" Hannah screeched.

"I guess she's just tired." Susan said. "Let's leave her alone for now." Susan wrestled Hannah out of the room. Kayla was thankful.

Kayla crawled under the covers. She thought of the dead, and for the second time in as many days, she cried.

PLF

"Damn, Parvati, what do you have in here, bricks?" Harry complained. He and Ron were carrying down Parvati's trunk—it took both—because she had "some fragile stuff in there. The last time it was levitated, my crystal ball broke."

"I only packed the essentials," Parvati argued. "I need a lot, but you wouldn't know that. Boys."

"Lav, you've beat your record," Seamus said. He and Dean were carrying her trunk for the same reason. "I'm sure this is at least thirty pounds heavier than last year. Right, Dean?"

"I'm not saying anything." A stance he took quite often between Seamus and Lavender, his best friend and his girlfriend.

Harry banged the trunk down as they reached the bottom of the stairs to Gryffindor Tower. The house elves would put everything there on the train.

"Aah!" Parvati screeched. "You'll break it."

"Oh, it's fine," Ron said, banging his own end down. He stretched, his joints popping. "At least, we only have to do this once more."

Harry smiled uneasily. He wouldn't be doing it, anymore. He wouldn't be here at the end of the year. He wouldn't even be here for all of spring term, much less summer. "Yeah."

"Well, I'm all done," Hermione announced, levitating her things down the steps.

"Me, too," Ron said.

"Walk me down?" Hermione asked. Ron nodded, and they started to walk away.

"Wait!" Harry yelled. He ran up to them. "I'll walk with you." It would be the last time he got to see them until the middle of January, and only two months after that, he would leave them forever.

"All right." Hermione smiled and linked her arm in his. "Let's go."

PLF

Heero stood in the foyer, watching all the students walk past. He was waiting for Duo, so they could say their good-byes.

Arms grabbed him from behind. "Hello, gorgeous." Duo growled.

Heero turned and swatted at his boyfriend. "Were you trying to scare me?"

Duo grinned. "Did it work?"

"Terribly." Heero brought Duo's head down and kissed him. "I'm going to miss you."

"I'll miss you more."

They cooed at each other for several minutes, each more sickeningly sweet than the last.

"Oh, get a room!"

Heero sent his patented Death Glare towards Malfoy, and that shut the brat up. "Where are you going again?"

"L3. I'm going with Trowa to visit his sister."

"I'll write to you," Heero said. "I promise. Now go, or you'll miss the carriages."

Duo made to walk away before turning back, spinning Heero around, dipping him., and kissing the life out of him. To applause.

"Ahem. Mr. Maxwell." Snape.

"Right," Duo said. "Bye, 'Ro. See you in January."

"Bye, Duo!" Heero called out. He nodded to Snape. "Professor." He turned and walked away. He and his family would be leaving within the hour.

PLF

"What's Haven like?" Daemon asked. They were standing in front of the gateway.

"Beautiful," Quatre answered. They were discreetly holding hands.

Rather, they _thought_ they were discreetly holding hands.

Harry smiled. "Oh, it's better than beautiful."

Dorothy opened the gateway, and the five of them stepped in. They were assaulted by the sights and sounds and smells of Haven. Perfect.

"Harry!" Balor scooped Harry up in his arms.

Harry grinned. Even better.

Selune


	46. At Haven

A.N.: The lyrics in the first scene are from the song "Main Theme" by Jack Wall from the game Myst III; however, they don't mean the same thing in this context. To get the best effect, listen to that song while reading the first scene.

Disclaimer: I do not own any things Harry Potter—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to the wonderful J. K. Rowling and whomever else she decides. I do not own anything Gundam Wing—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to (I think) Bandai and Sunrise.

Spoilers: This fic contains spoilers for books 1-5 of Harry Potter and all of the episodes of Gundam Wing. This fic does not include Endless Waltz.

Rating: R

Pairings: Neville/Harry, 2x1, Relena/OFC, OMCx4, Zacharias/Harry, OMC/Harry

Category: crossover, fantasy, general, drama

Author: Selune

Author's site: 

Summary: Two years ago, the One Year War ended. At this time, the five heroes—the Gundam pilots—disappeared from the Muggle world. Three of them—pilots 02, 03, and 05—reappeared shortly after in the Wizarding world, as students at Hogwarts School of Witchraft and Wizardry. Now, twenty months after the fact, Heero Yuy and Quatre Winner are coming to Hogwarts, and they're bringing all of their secrets with them. The world—especially one Harry Potter—will never be the same.

Peace, Love, and Family:

The Story of the Vanuli Three

Chapter 45: At Haven

Friday, December 20, 197

Haven—Dawn Room

6:59 AM

Heero sat in the bleachers with his family, waiting. The bleachers weren't like any found in the human world. Like most seats in Haven, they were made from gnarled tree roots, which rose up when you sat in them, curving just so to get maximum comfort.

"Is it time yet?" Harry asked, excited as a kid at Christmas. It was his first Yule celebration at Haven, so that was to be expected.

As it was only Heero's second Yule, he didn't know much more than Harry.

"Almost," Dorothy replied, catching Harry as he started to flutter away. "Now, sit down."

Heero stopped his wings' vibrations, catching himself before Dorothy did. This year, they got to be flyers. Which was much better than the mere foot soldiers they were last year.

Heero caught Harry's eye—one seat in front of him, to the left—and smiled.

Quatre gasped. "I see them!"

The queen. Heero's grandmother, the matron of all. For today, at least. For it was the day before Yule, and the meant one thing and one thing only: the kick-off of the fortnight-long Yule celebration.

Every year since the beginning of Haven, Yule began with a great Amenea that remembered what truly created the need for the beautiful city. The war with the humans, who—after gaining enough magic, of course, and numbers—decided they didn't want "any damn Vanuli stinkin' up their world." The war lasted for only three months, and in that time, the humans were able to force the Vanuli back to six points in the world—six of the sixteen entrances to the land where Vanuli began. Where the first Father and Mother begat their first children.

And so the land was named Haven, for it was their safe haven from the treacheries of man, who betrayed the Vanuli so readily, after learning magic at their knees. And Haven prospered, growing ever more beautiful, more magical with each succeeding generation. Each queen more radiant than the last, until finally Haven was as it stood today.

But first, there was war.

Heero stood as the first notes of the violetta rang out. It was beginning. Heero felt his body swaying as the foot soldiers in the valley below moved. Two opposing forces, one representing the humans, the other, Vanuli.

He thrust his wand out like a sword and waited for the swell of music to overtake him.

The fianets were plucked by the air and the sheer magic being created by the Amenea.

Heero flew.

Below him, the foot soldiers danced. Above their figures, he could see impressions of the people they represented. Red colored the landscape as Vanuli after Vanuli fell.

Heero fluttered in the air, seeking out his counterpart. He _became_ the past, as he looked for the "Veela" who killed him.

He—no longer Heero—found her.

They circled one another as, in the bloodbath below, one lone voice rang out.

"Naray alani. Naray latiste t'dee. Nosis amani azhwa na. Famani Sa. Havana devotee."

It was a plaintive cry, and the part of Heero that was still Heero was sad. He wept openly, and began the reply song.

"Amani malissa pariel. Memodama ami soule!"

The Amenea picked up speed. All were singing now, dancing. Fighting.

The Veela—no longer Heero's Vanuli cousin, Vanity, but the embodiment of hate—struck him, and he fell. He sliced at her with his sword—wand—and hit her wings. They fell together, still singing, onto the bodies in the valley.

The Amenea broke from it's highest point, as the queen began to sing again. Whereas the last was a cry for battle, this urged the survivors to flee to safety.

_Run to Haven._

Only a third of the flyers remained, and all of the foot soldiers lay crumpled on the valley floor.

Exhausted, Heero could feel the blood—_It's not really there—_on his forehead. He waited, waited, waited until the last plaintive note wrung out.

_It's done._

He passed out.

PLF

"Wow, that was—that was—" Daemon said, walking on the trail in the main time portal.

"Amazing? Beautiful? Super-duper?" Quatre supplied, grinning. They were alone. Harry had run off with Balor as soon as the War Amenea was over, and Dorothy and Heero were spending time with Relena and a very pregnant Tashpi.

"Powerful," Daemon settled on. "And not a little bit disturbing."

"It's supposed to be," Quatre said, sounding much like Hermione before a lecture. "It's to make sure we remember where we came from. It was a powerful and disturbing thing that brought us to Haven. Besides," Quatre trailed his hand down Daemon's arm, "it makes the rest of it so much nicer in comparison."

Daemon grabbed Quatre's hand, lacing their fingers together. He brought Quatre's hand to his mouth and kissed it. "So, what's next?"

Quatre rolled his eyes, smiling. "_Next_ is the Single's Ball."

"Aw," Daemon groaned. "More dancing? I don't think my wings will be able to take it!"

PLF

Heero stood in the Ball Room—which was actually a very large woodland clearing, with room for a full orchestra (with no one to play the instruments) at the side—away from everyone he knew and loved.

He was wearing a special Amenea robe made with the back cut out, so his wings could spring forth and not damage anything important.

He was at the Single's Ball, which was, as the name might suggest, a dance for unmarried Vanuli. Every single Vanuli between the ages of sixteen and thirty was forced to go to the ball—and dance with every other single Vanuli—in the hopes that they would find their one true love and get hitched. (Subsequently, the couple went to the Married Ball and danced with the old geezers.)

The music started after someone charmed the instruments, and the dance began. It was a waltz, as the first dance always was. Heero fell into the arms of the first person he saw, who happened to be a nondescript, twenty-something female, and they danced.

It was going to be a long night.

PLF

"No more waltzes! No more waltzes!" The group chanted, and the music complied.

A fast song came on, almost Muggle in sound, and Harry squealed with delight. He wasn't sure how an orchestra could produce such sounds—including vocal!—but he didn't care. It was his favorite Vanuli song, The Twin's Amenea.

There were layers, now, in the dancing. The ball had been going on for hours. Vanuli flew up into the sky to dance, higher and higher and higher, until there were eight separate layers—including the ground—upon which people danced. Harry knew Heero was up in the eighth layer, as high as he could possibly get.

Harry, shit-eating grin on his face, flew up to his brother. With who else could he dance to that song?

Heero came out of a spin and jumped when he saw Harry. "Ooh. You scared me."

"Care to dance, little brother?" Harry asked.

Heero rolled his eyes and stuck out his hand. They flew up into a ninth layer.

Taking that as a yes, Harry took the hand and spun Heero. Hard.

They spun, dipped, turned, twirled, and twisted above everybody else until the song ended.

"Nice dancing!" Harry yelled out as they dropped back into the eighth layer. Heero laughed.

Harry turned to his new partner and found—Balor. Harry blinked in surprise. After spending six days practically in Balor's lap (not literally; they just spent all their time together), he'd barely seen Balor all day. Just for a few minutes after the War Amenea. And a few minutes before. And at breakfast. Okay, okay! He'd seen Balor a lot. But it felt like no time at all.

A slow song came on, and Balor grabbed Harry's waist and pulled Harry to him. Harry gulped. There really shouldn't be any butterflies in his stomach. It was just Balor. His _friend_.

Yeah, right.

Harry shut his eyes and lay his head on Balor's chest. They fluttered in the air.

PLF

Balor couldn't help but stare at Nelat when he saw him. Dancing on air with his brother, Imela, Nelat was breathtaking. Of course, Nelat was always beautiful.

Balor felt proud to be his friend. And that's all that he was. Nelat, who preferred to be called Harry, had a boyfriend back in the human world. Not to mention, his betrothal and eminent marriage to the equally lovely Malal and Imela.

Balor knew what he was. He knew his place. His mother was the younger sister of the current Crown Princess. His father was a half-giant. Thankfully, his father was dead—killed—and Balor was raised by his mother. In Haven. He knew nothing else.

But he wished... He dreamed of being with Nelat. Even if they had to leave Haven and go out into the real world. Balor was truly, madly, deeply in love with Harry, and he would go anywhere, do anything, to be with him.

It was not to be, though. Nelat didn't even think of him like that. The one, sweet kiss Balor had stolen would be all he ever would ever get.

Sometimes, though, Harry would look at Balor just so, and he would think, _Just maybe..._

But no.

Balor sighed and kissed Nelat on the forehead. The song was ending, and it was someone else's turn with his beloved.

PLF

"Oh, my wings!"

"Oh, my feet!"

"Oh, my wings _and_ feet!" The triplets whined at once. It was after the ball. The ball, which had lasted sixteen hours, was set in one of the quadruple speed time portals, so time out in the real world (and in the main portal) had only moved forward four hours.

Sixteen concentrated hours dancing was enough to do anyone in, and the full 2,158 single Vanuli were all, once again, going to the same place! The backwards portal. The backwards portal would de-age their bodies back the extra twelve hours they'd spent dancing—hurting—in the Ball Room.

"There it is," Dorothy said, spotting the backwards portal. "We're almost there. Turn around." It was more fun to jump in backwards.

Quatre looked behind him as he walked, so he wouldn't trip over anything or anybody. He had, last year, and it wasn't any fun.

"I see it!" Harry said. He was still excited, despite how tired he had to be.

Quatre could too. It shimmered darkly off the path of the main portal. They were next. The backwards portal would be like a roller coaster. Quatre stepped up to the landing as he watched a couple jump in. He counted to three, grabbed Daemon's hand, and jumped back.

They rushed through the portal their wings and feet mending as hours of flying and dancing were washed away in seconds. They fell out of the back, three-quarters of the way refreshed.

"That was, once again—"

"—Wow," Quatre finished for Daemon. That was how he felt last year, and his opinion hadn't changed since then.

"What's next?" Daemon asked, as he had several times that day.

"The Games," Quatre said, "beginning with the Maze."

PLF

Dorothy reached down and touched her toes, stretching, warming up for the Maze game.

This year, she was determined to win.

"Limber up," she said to Heero, who was her partner for the game. They were almost naked, having changed out of their Amenea robes for more practical garb. They wore Clenaute robes, which looked like basic short, tank top dresses.

The thing about Clenaute robes, though, was that they changed with the form of the wearer. The backs shrunk to accommodate wings. The neckline grew broader as the wearer grew. It even grew a hole for tails to go through. Dorothy loved the robes and thought that they should be made in every fashion, so a Vanuli wouldn't have to worry about ripping her clothes when Changing.

Dorothy and Heero lined up at the starting line with all the other players. Maze was as one might suspect, a maze. The object of the game was to get to the finish line before anyone else. Maze was played in partners, and whoever won, her partner won, too.

Maze was set in the grass houses on the main street of Haven. To complete the maze, Dorothy would have to go through the interconnected houses without stepping foot outside. If a Vanuli stepped outside, she was automatically sprayed with red paint and disqualified.

Dorothy Changed into a centaur just as the Princess shouted, "Go!" and galloped through the first house.

PLF

"I can't believe we won," Heero said, passing the jar of Bellarmees and the anti-venom back to Dorothy. He was covered from head to foot in red paint.

"I can't believe you were pushed out!" Relena said, grabbing a Bellarmee as the jar was passed. She licked her blue wrist. "How many did you say you took with you?"

"Seventeen." Heero flicked his tail, which was also covered in paint. It was shorter than in the maze, but not by much. "Vanity pushed me, and I just grabbed everything I could with my tail."

Dorothy laughed. "Still, we won." The ritual Taunting of the Losers was the most fun of all, of course, but the prize was great.

"Give me another Bellarmee," Heero said.

"Where are Harry and Quatre?" Relena asked, passing the jar back.

"With their boyfriends," Heero giggled. He was getting quite high.

"What our esteemed Imela means to say," Dorothy said, "is that Quatre is with Daemon, and Harry is with Balor."

"Daemon's the one you Turned, right, Heero?" Relena said.

Heero nodded. "He'd never admit it, but Quatre is quite infatuated with him. And Harry goes all googly-eyed over Balor, even though he has a boyfriend waiting at Hogwarts."

"Huh," Relena said. She looked up and waved. Heero turned to see Tashpi. "That must mean it's time to go." Relena stood, brushing off her Amenea robe. "A queen's work is never done."

Heero frowned. "Have fun." He blew her a kiss and tried not to think of tomorrow.

PLF

Harry and Balor walked side by side in the Beach Room. They were the only ones there, as everyone else was at the Games.

"You didn't want to watch Ismea and Imela?" Balor asked, staring down at Harry.

Harry shook his head. "No. That's kid stuff."

"You're still a kid."

"Is that how you think of me?" Harry asked. The back of his hand brushed Balor's.

"No. I could never think of you like that. It would make me a pedophile, wouldn't it?"

Harry laughed and play-punched Balor. He got quiet and lay his head on Balor's arm. "Do you really like me?"

"Immensely."

Harry sighed. "Because I really like you." They stopped walking. Harry could feel that Balor wasn't breathing. He looked up at Balor. "Kiss me?"

Balor breathed. "What about your boyfriend?"

"Just once. Just one kiss to hold me over until I can talk to him. I don't think—I can't be with him anymore. I want to be with you. I want you." Harry stopped himself from saying what he really wanted to say. It had taken him years to fall in love with Neville, but apparently he didn't need that long with Balor. "Kiss me?" he asked again.

Balor leaned down, and they kissed. It was nothing special, just one sweet, chaste kiss, but it meant the world to Harry.

"I love you," Balor said.

Harry felt a tear slip down his cheek. "I love you, too."

PLF

Daemon and Quatre found the room their family was in.

"Kidayo and Malal LeFey," Quatre said to the filmy partition in the doorway. It slid away to allow them entrance.

They walked into the room and dressed for bed. Dorothy, Harry, and Heero were already asleep.

They hadn't meant to stay out so late, but the Forest Room—where they'd gone to make out—was always set at dusk, and they hadn't realized how late it was.

They shared one last kiss before climbing into opposite sides of the bed. Otherwise, they wouldn't be getting much sleep, and that would be rude to the others. Besides, Quatre and his brothers had an early morning.

PLF

"Good morning!" a Vanuli woman shouted, throwing the curtains open.

Harry blinked as noontime sun shined into the room. He looked at his watch. Breakfast time.

"Go away, Allegara," Heero moaned, burrowing into the covers—and Harry's shoulder. "It's too early."

"It's time to get up. Up! Up!" Allegara smiled, being entirely too bouncy for seven o'clock in the morning. "We have to get you boys isolated, and as your older sister, that joy has fallen to me."

"Fine," Quatre rolled out of the bed. He hit the ground. Hard. "I'm up. Happy?"

"Great!," Allegara said. "Now, get dressed, so we can leave."

After they got up, it didn't take them long to get dressed.

"Where are we going?" Harry asked after they left the room. They traveled all the way down main street, took a left, two rights, another left, and started on this circular road that Harry was sure would lead them straight back to the houses.

"The White Room," Allegara said. "Nobody ever goes in there, except for Confirmations and Coronations. The last time anyone's been in there was 103 years ago. It was your mother." Allegara skipped, but Harry couldn't find the energy—or the inclination—to join her. They hadn't been allowed to eat. Something about purity of the body. "I'm so glad we're having a Confirmation, aren't you? It's been so long, and I've never seen one. I bet it'll be splendid. What do you think?"

"Oh, yes. Rah. Rah," Heero said in a monotone.

Allegara didn't seem to notice. "Well, here we are."

They'd reached a white door that lead to nowhere. Allegara opened the door, and Harry could see the White Room beyond.

"Well, in you go." Allegara pushed the triplets in, locking the door after them. "Somebody'll come get you in time for the ceremony!" she yelled, but Harry could barely hear her.

"Well," Harry sighed, turning to survey the room. There was no food. Damn. "What do you want to do, now?"

PLF

It was a long day. Eleven hours with no food and nothing to do but play cards.

"Rummy," Quatre said, picking up the cards Harry had just lain down.

Neither Harry nor Heero had ever played Gin Rummy before, so Quatre was, quite rightly, kicking the pants off them. They were playing to 50,000. Quatre had 36,348, while Harry and Heero had a measly 12,642 between them.

Harry caught Heero's eye. "You want to quit?"

Heero took a deep breath. "_Mother, _yes!"

"No," Quatre complained. "You can't quit now. What else are we going to do?"

"We're going to talk," Heero said, "about relationships."

Quatre blushed. "I don't think—"

"Starting with yours," Harry said. He scooted his chair closer to Quatre. "Spill, big brother."

Quatre squirmed, as his face turned tomato red. "I don't think—it's still so early. Why don't we—I just can't. Not yet."

The door opened, saving Quatre from further embarrassment. It was Dorothy.

"It's time," she said. "Follow me."

PLF

Seeing approximately 8,000 Vanuli mulling around the Throne Room almost made Heero turn tail and run. But that would leave Harry and Quatre to go it alone, and Heero couldn't do that. Besides, Harry was clutching his arm, almost painfully hard.

Dorothy cast the Sonorous Charm and began the ceremony. "Behold, the triplets, Princes Malal, Nelat, and Imela! Bow to Their Graces!"

The crowd parted, bowing as Dorothy led the triplets down to the dais, where stood the queen, Morgan, Allegara, and a man and woman Heero didn't recognize. He thought they were his siblings, though.

"I present my Niamos," Dorothy said, bowing to the queen. Her nose touched the ground, and Heero could hear the _crunch_ as she broke and bent her bones to be able to curtsy so low.

"My grandchildren," Aravu said, a Sonorous cast on both of her bodies. She offered her hands to them.

Heero and his brothers bowed, facing the queen and away from the crowd. They kissed the proffered hands. "Your Majesty," they said, in syncronicity.

The queen left them to sit as her thrones, and the triplets were told to rise. They turned and kneeled toward the crowd.

Morgan came to them, a tray of six golden chalices floating behind her. She distributed three of them and said, "Drink of the Blood, for it represents your kingdom." They drank.

Harry almost choked—it was real blood!—but managed to get it all down.

Morgan floated the other three chalices above the triplets heads. "Bathe in the Blood, for it is Vanuli." The chalices upturned themselves, soaking the triplets in the Blood. The blood spilled down upon them. Harry blinked to get it out of his eyes.

"Do you swear to be a Prince for your people, to be strong and courageous for them?" Morgan asked.

"I swear," The triplets answered.

"Do you swear to aid your people, and help them to the best of your ability?"

"I swear."

"Do you swear to Fuse and become King on the day of your majority?"

"I swear."

Morgan beckoned Allegara and the other two. Bringing new garlands, they stood behind the triplets.

"By the Almighty Mother and the power of Vanuli, I present to you, the new Crowned Princes!"

The garlands were dropped on their sticky heads.

The crowd roared, "Malal! Nelat! Imela!"

Selune


	47. Breaking Up is Hard to Do

Disclaimer: I do not own any things Harry Potter—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to the wonderful J. K. Rowling and whomever else she decides. I do not own anything Gundam Wing—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to (I think) Bandai and Sunrise.

Spoilers: This fic contains spoilers for books 1-5 of Harry Potter and all of the episodes of Gundam Wing. This fic does not include Endless Waltz.

Rating: NC17

Pairings: Neville/Harry, 2x1, Relena/OFC, OMCx4, Zacharias/Harry, OMC/Harry

Category: crossover, fantasy, general, drama

Author: Selune

Author's site: 

Summary: Two years ago, the One Year War ended. At this time, the five heroes—the Gundam pilots—disappeared from the Muggle world. Three of them—pilots 02, 03, and 05—reappeared shortly after in the Wizarding world, as students at Hogwarts School of Witchraft and Wizardry. Now, twenty months after the fact, Heero Yuy and Quatre Winner are coming to Hogwarts, and they're bringing all of their secrets with them. The world—especially one Harry Potter—will never be the same.

Peace, Love, and Family:

The Story of the Vanuli Three

Chapter 46: Breaking Up Is Hard to Do

Sunday

January 5, AC 198

Haven, Leaving Portal

"Is that everything?" Quatre asked, zipping up his bag. It was the day before school started back up, and they would be leaving for Hogwarts momentarily.

"Yeah, that's—oh, wait!" Harry yelled, running from the room. "I left my bag at Balor's!"

Quatre laughed at his brother. Harry was much happier now that he and Balor were "kinda, sorta" together. Harry spent most of his time with Balor, even going so far as to sleep in the room with Balor's family a couple of times. They hadn't had sex yet, though. Harry wanted to break up with Smith first.

That couldn't possibly turn out well. Smith was obsessed with Harry, even more so than Longbottom. He would be very angry when Harry dumped him. He might even get violent.

_If Smith hurts him, I'll rip him apart._

Daemon wrapped his arms around Quatre from behind. He kissed Quatre's neck. "You sad to be going back?"

Quatre turned and put his arms around Daemon's neck. "It's always a little sad to leave this place. Especially knowing that I'm never going to see it quite like this again. Next time, I'll become king."

Daemon squeezed Quatre and quickly kissed his forehead. "That's months away. You'll think of something to get out of it. You're smart like that."

Quatre sighed and lay his head on Daemon's chest. Nothing would get him out of his destiny. Except for death, and that wasn't an option.

He forced a smile on his face. "We'll not think about it, right now. It's too depressing. Now, we should go to the Leaving Portal. Heero and Dorothy are waiting for us, and I'm sure Harry's on his way there by now." He stepped away from Daemon and shouldered his bag. "Get your bag, and let's go."

PLF

Harry announced himself, and the filmy partition slid away. Balor had added him to the room's occupancy list, so he could come and go as he pleased.

Harry tiptoed into the room, because there were people still sleeping in the bed. Balor was on the end, snoring, and Harry crept up to him. "Balor," he whispered, shaking his cousin.

"Mm," Balor groaned. He rolled over and squinted. "Harry? What time is it?"

"Past one." Harry grinned. Everybody slept late in Haven, except for special occasions like the Confirmation. "I have to leave soon. I just wanted to tell you 'bye' before I went." Harry moved to get his bag, but Balor grabbed his hand.

"C'mere, Nay," Balor pulled Harry down to the bed and nuzzled his neck. "I'm going to miss you."

"You know," Harry said slyly, "next weekend is the Ravenclaw-Slytherin game. Everybody will be there."

"And?" Balor asked, pretending not to know what Harry wanted.

"_And_ I'll have broken up with Zacharias by then."

"Ooh. And that affects me why?" Balor teased.

"For Mother's sake, Bal, he wants you to fuck him!" Vanity cried from the other side of the bed.

Harry looked at Balor and burst out laughing. "Sorry for waking you, Van," Harry said. Vanity was Balor's next youngest sister. Two more sisters, Fait and Streena, were in bed with them.

"S'okay," Vanity mumbled. "Just don't do it again." She rolled over and went back to sleep.

Harry focused his attention on Balor. "So? Will you come?"

"Harry, love, you know that I would do anything for you, right?"

"But?" Harry had a bad feeling about this. Maybe Balor didn't want to be with him like that. Sure, Harry knew that Balor loved him, but you could love somebody without finding him attractive.

"I want our first time to be here, in Haven, not in some long abandoned classroom, or even that magical room, the—what was it called?"

"The Room of Requirement."

"Right. That."

"Do you not want to be with me?" Harry asked, trying to keep the desperation out of his voice. These past few weeks, it had taken all of Harry's control not to just jump Balor. But if Balor didn't want to make love to Harry, he would just have to deal with it.

"Of course, I want to be with you!"

"Shh!" Vanity screeched.

"Sorry," Balor whispered. He turned back to Harry. "I've wanted to be with you since I first met you. You have no idea how hard it's been for me not to ravish you where you stand—lay—whatever. What I want is for it to be special.

"There's a room here that almost never gets used. It has a huge hot tub in it, and it's on a beach. That's where I want to take you."

"Oh," Harry said. "Okay." He kissed Balor, ecstatic that Balor wanted him. "I guess—I guess I can just come here next Saturday, then. All right?"

Balor answered by burying his face in Harry's neck.

PLF

Zacharias sat in the compartment with Justin and Susan. Hannah and Ernie were on the train, somewhere, doing Head Girl and Boy stuff. Zacharias didn't care, though. About anything.

Well, one thing. _I get to see Harry today!_ He couldn't stop beaming at anyone he saw. Zacharias even smiled at Malfoy, for Merlin's sake!

"How was your Christmas?" Susan asked, brightly. Her brown hair was pulled back into pigtails, like Hannah's. It didn't look quite as childish on her.

"Torture," Zacharias answered.

"You missed Harry, didn't you?" She and Justin held hands. Their eyes met, and Zacharias almost gagged. He was glad he and Harry weren't that sickly sweet.

"Of course, I missed him! He's my boyfriend."

"Justin and I owled a lot over the break. Did you and Harry?"

"Oh, yeah. Lots," Zacharias lied. The truth was, Harry had only written once, when his owl came to drop off Zacharias's present. Zacharias wasn't worried, though. Harry wasn't much of a writer. And besides, owls couldn't enter...wherever it was Harry said he was going to. Haver or something like that. No non-Vanuli could enter there. That's what Harry said, at least, when Zacharias asked if he could visit.

Zacharias mentally shook his head. He didn't like thinking about how weird his boyfriend was.

"What did you do over the holiday?" he asked Justin, trying to get his mind off of it.

PLF

Dumbledore finished his speech, and food appeared on the table. Duo dug in with gusto.

He and Trowa had a long trip getting back to Hogwarts. They flew down from L1—where Cathy's circus was performing, currently—last night, spent the night in some hellhole hotel, and then rode back to Hogwarts on the train.

Duo was horribly jet-lagged—L1 was six hours ahead of Britain. He felt like he should be asleep, not about to have dinner.

Trowa elbowed Duo, which saved him from an embarrassing dive into his soup. "Yuy's trying to get your attention."

Duo looked over at the Gryffindor table. Heero smiled at him and waved. He was practically glowing. Going home had been good to him. Heero looked better than he had in ages. Of course, Heero always looked stunning.

Heero went through a series of gestures—a sign language that they had modified during the war—and told Duo that he wanted to meet him after dinner. Duo nodded and went back to his dinner.

Christmas at Trowa's was an amusing affair. It was the second anniversary after the end of the One Year War, and the Muggles were out in droves. They were happy and spirited, much more so than their magical counterparts here in Britain. Of course, their war was over. They didn't have to worry about You-Know-Who or Dr. J or the Death Eaters. Or the fact that three young men were their one and only hope for a good end to the war.

Duo smiled. He and the other pilots were even younger when they helped end the Muggle War. Heero didn't even have his magic, then. Now that he had magic, Heero could do anything.

His spirits lifted, Duo turned to Daphne Greengrass. Because she was his friend, of course, and not—just—because, when talking to her, he had a perfect line of sight towards Heero. "How was your holiday?"

PLF

"Smith is staring, again," Ron said.

Harry jerked up his head. "Huh?"

"Smith, your creepy boyfriend, is, _once again_, staring—unblinking!—over here."

"Oh, um, sorry?" Harry said, shoveling mashed potatoes in his mouth. He'd been out of sorts ever since leaving Haven that afternoon. It felt weird when it got dark—at Haven, it was either always dark or never dark, depending on the portal. Here, everything was so _uniform_. Time moved at a constant pace, everywhere!

Also, Balor wasn't here. Harry already missed his soon-to-be lover. Harry perked up. Soon, he would be with Balor—and only Balor—in every single way.

Harry smiled and looked up. Into Zacharias's eyes. _Shit._ Zacharias must think _he_ was the reason for Harry's happiness. Harry put his spoon down.

"I guess I should talk to him," Harry said, his spirits deflating.

"Abou' wha'?" Ron asked, his mouth full.

"I'll tell you later." Harry patted Ron on the shoulder, standing up. "I'll see you guys later." Heero, Quatre, and Hermione waved good-bye.

Harry walked over to the Hufflepuff table. Zacharias's face got brighter with each step that Harry took. "I, uh, need to talk to you," Harry said.

"Sure," Zacharias said. He wiped his mouth and fended off Ernie and Justin, who were—so maturely—making kissy faces at him.

Harry and Zacharias walked out of the Great Hall. As soon as the doors closed behind them, Zacharias grabbed Harry and kissed him. "I've missed you so much."

"Uh, great," Harry stammered. His stomach churned. This was not going to be fun.

PLF

The Room of Requirement looked much like it did the last time Zacharias and Harry were there—two plush chairs facing a roaring fire. Harry motioned for Zacharias to sit and sat in the other chair. Harry fidgeted with the hem of his robe, determinedly not looking at Zacharias. This hadn't been so hard with Neville.

Of course, with Neville, it was Neville who did the dumping. And despite what Neville thought, Harry had never cheated on him.

Zacharias cleared his throat. "So, uh, what did you want to talk about?"

Harry jumped. Zacharias was so sweet—sort of—and he loved Harry. But Harry loved Balor, and Balor loved him back. Harry didn't have the time to be with someone he only liked a little bit.

"You're scaring me a little bit, Harry." Zacharias stood up, clenching his fists in his robes.

"I, uh," Harry stammered. He brought his legs up and curled himself into a little ball. He would not cry or get emotional. He was Harry James Potter, and he could bloody well break up with his boyfriend. "I'm sorry."

Zacharias frowned and dropped to his knees in front of Harry. "About what? Harry, look at me." Zacharias's fingers lifted Harry's chin from his knees. "What's wrong?"

Harry smiled sadly. Zacharias really did love him—he would never act this way if he didn't. "I don't deserve you."

Zacharias leapt to his feet. "Of course, you deserve me! You deserve everything." Zacharias gathered Harry in his arms, and Harry let himself be hugged. "I love you."

Harry closed his eyes. "I know, and that's what makes this so hard." Harry pushed away from Zacharias. It was so difficult to just say it! Harry looked away from Zacharias. "I want to break up."

Silence.

Harry wanted to look at Zacharias, but he was afraid of what he'd see. Zacharias would be so crushed.

"What! Why?" Zacharias cried through clenched teeth. He spun Harry around and shook him. "Why. Don't. You. Want. To. Be. With. Me? Don't you know I love you?"

"I don't love you," Harry whispered.

Zacharias clenched his fingers around Harry's biceps. "It's that half-giant, isn't it? You fucked—No, _he_ fucked _you_ over the break, and now you fancy yourself in love with the brute."

"He's not a brute!" Harry yelled. "And we haven't had sex, but yes, I do love him."

"What does he have that I don't?" Zacharias asked, defeated. "Why don't you love me? I've loved you since we were thirteen! I even joined the Quidditch team for you!"

"I-I'm sorry." Harry reached out to Zacharias, but he was slapped away.

"No, you're not. You have your lover, and you're so _happy_ with him. But I won't let you leave me. I've waited too long to let you go, now."

Zacharias grabbed and kissed him. Harry tried to pull back, but couldn't. Zacharias pushed him into the chair, covering Harry's body with his own.

Zacharias's mouth moved from Harry's mouth down to his neck. He searched and found the hickey that Balor left that afternoon. Zacharias growled and latched onto it, covering it with his own mark.

"Zacharias, stop!" Harry cried. He tried to push Zacharias off, but he was too heavy. _If I could just get to my wand._ But he couldn't. His wand was in his robe pocket, and Zacharias had a firm grip on his hands.

Zacharias undid the top buttons on Harry's robe and undershirt. _Oh, fuck this!_ Harry had never tried wandless casting in Latin before, but he couldn't think of the Vanulian word. "_Abigo_!" Harry yelled, and Zacharias went flying backwards. Zacharias hit his head on the stone wall and slumped to the floor.

"Oh, shit."

PLF

Dorothy was enjoying a nice, relaxing time alone in her room. Pansy and Tracey were with their boyfriends, Daphne was owling her—much older—girlfriend, and Millicent was off somewhere, playing with her cat. Or terrorizing "ickle firsties." It was hard to tell with her, sometimes. Dorothy sighed and turned a page in her book.

Her Niamos were all okay. Quatre was with Daemon, down here in Slytherin. Heero was, similarly, with his boyfriend, up in the Astronomy Tower. And Harry was with Smith in the Room of Requirement. They were having a very heated discussion. It was to be expected, of course. Losing someone as great as Harry was never fun. At least, Dorothy didn't expect it would be. She didn't have much time for that, nowadays.

Smith shook Harry, and Dorothy sat up, all of her attention on the two of them. She leapt to her feet when Smith forced his kiss on Harry. That bastard would die!

Dorothy ran out of her dorm, barely remembering to put on shoes.

PLF

"Oh, God," Harry said, rushing over to Zacharias. There was so much blood. Harry had to fight not to throw up. "Okay, Harry, just calm down. Everything'll be all right. You just have to get him to Madam Pomfrey."

Harry lifted Zacharias's head to see how bad the damage was. There was a long gash, but it didn't look like it went too deep. Of course, Harry was no Healer, and head wounds were never good. And Zacharias was losing a lot of blood—Harry could do something about that.

Harry gathered his wits and set about pushing blood—just the blood, none of the debris—back through Zacharias's wound. He made the blood clot. Unlike back on Halloween, Harry's work stayed. He couldn't close the wound, though—that was Heero's specialty—and Zacharias might have a concussion.

Harry levitated Zacharias, intent on taking him to the Hospital Wing. He opened the door and ran straight into Dorothy.

"Ow," Harry said, rubbing his forehead. "What are you—oh!"

Dorothy practically tackled Harry, dragging him down to the floor. "Oh, baby, I saw everything. Are you okay? Are you hurt? Did that bastard hurt you?" Dorothy's eyes fell on Harry's neck and narrowed. "I. Will. Kill. Him." She stood up and marched over to Zacharias's floating body. Harry's eyes widened as she drew a Fury Shooter from her body. It was vibrant, bright. Deadly.

"No!" Harry screamed. He ran and tackled Dorothy. "You can't just _kill_ him!"

Dorothy paid no attention, and her Fury Shooter hurtled towards Zacharias.

Harry said a protection spell and threw it at Zacharias. It hit him and stuck just as Dorothy's Fury Shooter shot threw his body. The force caused Harry's Levitation Charm to fail, and Zacharias went crashing to the floor. At least, he was alive.

Dorothy rounded on Harry, who picked himself up from the floor. "Why did you do that? That bastard tried to rape you!"

"But he didn't," Harry insisted. "And now he knows not to mess with me. Besides, he was just emotional. Zacharias didn't really mean it."

"Yeah, right," Dorothy spat. "He just tripped and fell on you. Not his fault at all, really."

Harry smiled. "Exactly."

Dorothy ran her thumb over Harry's cheek. "Oh, my darling Nelat, I would never have forgiven myself if something had happened to you. I've been a bad Naiyama, being so far away from you and your brothers. You could have been really hurt, and I was in the damn dungeons reading."

Harry grabbed onto Dorothy's hand. "But I'm _fine_."

"And I'm going to make sure you stay that way."

Harry rolled his eyes. "Sure." What exactly could she do to be closer to them? Become a Gryffindor? "Just help me take Zacharias to the Hospital Wing."

PLF

"So, Dorothy's in Gryffindor now?" Heero asked, flopping back onto the bed. He petted the black cat—it must have been someone's Christmas present—and scratched his head.

"Wait a minute," Quatre said, jumping up from the bed. "Back up. You said Smith tried to rape you?"

"No, no." Harry shook his head. "You're blowing it all out of proportion. He didn't get anywhere near my...lower regions."

"Because you cursed him," Quatre said.

"Right." Harry didn't want to talk about that anymore. It made him uncomfortable. "Anyway, about Dorothy. We told Dumbledore what happened—though Dorothy grossly exaggerated. We had to tell him that Dorothy was my Naiyama, but after that, he was only too happy to make her an honorary Gryffindor. Something about it being school policy."

"Great," Heero said. "I understand her wanting more security, but now we're never going to get away of her."

Harry groaned and flopped next to Heero. He petted the cat. "She's even setting up exactly how far away from her we can be. I'm not sure how far it is, but probably the area of Gryffindor Tower."

The cat rippled, and a few seconds later, a very naked Daemon replaced it. He looked right at Quatre. "I guess this means you won't be sleeping down in Slytherin, tonight."

Quatre frowned. "I guess not."

PLF

Dorothy sat by the human's bed in the Infirmary, waiting for him to wake up. Harry was safe from him now, up in Gryffindor Tower with Heero and Quatre. Nothing could hurt the three of them when they were together. Nothing.

But apart, they were still vulnerable.

Dorothy would NOT let ANYTHING happen to her BABIES. Dorothy clenched her fist and willed Smith to wake up.

She needed to speak to him.

Smith groaned, and his eyes fluttered.

Good.

Dorothy waited until Smith's eyes were completely opened and he seemed coherent before looming over him. "Good evening, little badger."

Smith's eyes went wide at the sight of her. Everyone—especially the seventh years and the Slytherins—knew how protective Dorothy was of her Niamos. Everybody also knew that Dorothy was just a touch crazy. What they didn't know was that, a few times, Dorothy had actually killed people for looking hungrily at her babies. She'd thrown people from second story windows, thrown a car at them, and melted the bones of people who had done far less than what Smith did to Harry.

Dorothy was much better than that now—she'd learned restraint. But what Smith did brought back all of her psychotic tendencies, and Dorothy was only too happy to let them out.

"We have to have a little talk, you and I."

Zacharias made to speak, and Dorothy hushed him with a spell.

"What I meant was, I need to talk to you, puny human." She transfigured her chair and got comfortable. Now that Smith couldn't talk, he couldn't scream for help. "There are several ways this could go, Zacharias. I could kill you, which, frankly, is what I'm itching to do. I could paralyze or otherwise maim you. Or, I could do nothing to you, which I'm sure is what you want.

"In order to come out of this unharmed, you need to do one very simple thing: leave. You have to transfer to another school. Now, I've already spoken to Professor Dumbledore about this, and he has agreed to write you a recommendation for Upchurch's Institute of Witchcraft and Wizardry in England. It's not quite as prestigious as Hogwarts, but at least you've still be able to take your NEWTs. I could have just had you expelled. Harry is the Headmaster's golden boy, after all. He loves him like a grandchild.

"Of course, I won't _make_ you leave. This is all up to you. However, if you choose to remain here, I shall have to make you impotent—for life. Harry might be in denial, but you and I both know what you wanted to do to him. Also, I can't just stop there, either. I would have to render you completely helpless and unable to hurt Harry, perhaps by melting your bones in all of your limbs except your non-wand arm. Of course, Madam Pomfrey could always regrow them, but," she smiled, "that only works so many times. I like a challenge.

"If you do choose to stay at Hogwarts, you cannot talk to or about Harry. You cannot think about Harry or blame him for your situation. You got yourself into this mess—_he_ had nothing to do with it. If you do any of these things—and believe me, I _will_ know—I will kill you. Slowly. I have some experience with torture, and I'm always looking to improve. You would be the perfect subject for me. My only worry is that my hatred for you would make me kill you too quickly, and ruin my fun." Dorothy took the spell off Smith.

Zacharias gulped.

"So, which will it be?"

PLF

Two days later, Zacharias transferred.

Selune


	48. Commenisse Memoria

Disclaimer: I do not own any things Harry Potterthe characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to the wonderful J. K. Rowling and whomever else she decides. I do not own anything Gundam Wingthe characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to (I think) Bandai and Sunrise.

Spoilers: This fic contains spoilers for books 1-5 of Harry Potter and all of the episodes of Gundam Wing. This fic does not include Endless Waltz.

Rating: R

Pairings: Neville/Harry, 2x1, Relena/OFC, OMCx4, Zacharias/Harry, OMC/Harry

Category: crossover, fantasy, general, drama

Author: Selune

Author's site: Two years ago, the One Year War ended. At this time, the five heroesthe Gundam pilotsdisappeared from the Muggle world. Three of thempilots 02, 03, and 05reappeared shortly after in the Wizarding world, as students at Hogwarts School of Witchraft and Wizardry. Now, twenty months after the fact, Heero Yuy and Quatre Winner are coming to Hogwarts, and they're bringing all of their secrets with them. The worldespecially one Harry Potterwill never be the same.

Peace, Love, and Family:

The Story of the Vanuli Three

Chapter 47: Commenisse Memoria

Friday

January 17, AC 198

Potions classroom

"_Commenisse Memoria_ is not a simple potion," Snape said, stalking around the room. "It is a complicated potion with rare ingredients. As such, Longbottom and his partner will be working with me. The rest of you will be in groups of three." Nobody moved. "That means get in your groups."

A flurry of parchment and quills scattered about the room as the students hurried to get with their friends. Quatre took his time, it having been decided earlier that the triplets would work together. Like with many potions, the strength of the potion changed with the magical strength of the maker. The stronger the maker, the stronger the potion, and vice versa. With the triplets working together, the potion would be stronger than any ever made before, and all of their hidden memories would come back to them. Heero would probably even regain the memories that the Lust took from him.

Quatre got to the table, and Harry went to go get the ingredients needed. Quatre smiledhe'd never made a potion with both of his brothers before.

PLF

"_Memeni_," the triplets incanted in synchronization, saying the Regain Memory Charm over their potion. The combination of the potion and the charm made for some very potent magic. Quatre just hoped there wasn't anything he really didn't want to remember.

"I'll go first," Harry said, pouring a little bit into a flash. That was just like Harrythe perfect little Gryffindor, always being the first to try new and dangerous things.

Since it was NEWT level potions, Snape expected all of his students to be confident enough to drink their potions. Of course, accidents happen, and there had been several pink-feathered boys several times that year. Usually, Longbottom and his partner. Quatre wasn't worried, though. His potions usually turned out practically perfect.

Quatre nodded, and Harry downed the potion.

"Whoa," Harry moaned, his hands moving to his head. "'S heavy." He plopped down in his chair, fingers rubbing his temples.

Heero lay his hands on the back of Harry's neck. "You okay, Har?"

Harry nodded. "Yeah. It's just a little much." Harry's voice hitched. "I remember my parents."

Quatre looked away from Harry, to give him time to compose himself. He couldn't imagine what it was like to grow up an orphan, like Harry, or not knowing his parents, like Heero. Quatre had just had his father, but Raberba Winner was more than enough.

Quatre blinked back tears. Even after so long, his father's death still hurt.

"I'll go next," he volunteered. Quatre sat down and drank the potion. What he saw made his head spin and his heart constrict. "Oh, God." He couldn't let Heero see this.

"My turn." Heero went to grab the third flask, and Quatre put out his hand to stop him.

"No, you can't," Quatre said. "Believe me, you don't want to."

Heero gave him a look like he was stupid. "Quatre, I'm going to take the potion. You're just making me want to take it more."

"Okay, okay," Quatre held up his hand. "I just want to say this first. What happened was _not_ our fault. It was the magic, and we are not to blame."

"Quat, you're scaring me," Heero said.

"Good."

Heero shook his head and sat down. "I'm going to take the potion now, if that's okay with you."

"Fine."

Heero swallowed the potion. A few minutes later, his eyes widened. He had remembered.

PLF

Heero didn't know what Quatre's problem was. Actually, he thought he did. Heero knew that Quatre used to mess with his memories, though he wasn't sure exactly how. Quatre probably didn't want Heero finding out about it.

That was just too bad.

Heero drank the potion.

PLF

_It was the day before the full moon, and the Lust was in full bloom._

_"How much do you love me?" Heero asked an enthralled Duo._

_Duo grabbed him and rolled them over. "Does it really matter?"_

PLF

_Heero and Duo were in an abandoned classroom, the closest to the Great Hall. They moved together, frantically, Duo inside of Heero. Duo came and pulled out of Heero._

_Heero moaned at the loss of Duo's body heat. He pulled Duo back onto his chest, arranging him so they'd be comfortable. Heero was just about to fall asleep when a voice jerked him out of his post-coital bliss._

_"What the fuck's going on here!" roared Professor Lupin._

PLF

_It was November of 196, the year before Heero and Quatre met Harry. Heero had marked Roun and allied himself with the werewolves mere days before. Tomorrow was the day before the full moon, when something would happen. Heero wasn't sure whatbut tonight was for partying._

_"Wine for m'lady," Quatre said, handing Heero the goblet._

_Heero giggled. He was more than a little drunk already and being intoxicated always made him act like a pre-pubescent girl. "Yay, wine!" Heero snatched the goblet and chugged the wine. It was semi-expensive, so he really should have savored it, but he was the guest of honor at this party, so he could do as he liked. Besides, Heero didn't have much of a taste for wine, much preferring the fruitiness of Booamyie and other fairy drinks._

_"Don't drink it too fast," Quatre warned, "or you'll get sick."_

_"Yeah, yeah," Heero dismissed his brother. "Sick, schmick. I'll be all right."_

_The clock chimed midnight, and the room started to spin._

_"You know, I do feel a little lightheaded."_

_Quatre grabbed Heero's drink and set it on a nearby table. He reached out a steadying hand to Heero's elbow. "Come on, let's get you out of the crowd."_

_As Quatre led Heero awayto where, he didn't knowHeero felt eyes on him. He turned to look at the werewolves. Their eyes were glazed over, and they looked feral. A few even growled, but none of them moved to attack._

_Quatre brought Heero to the room they shared with Dorothy. Potion bottles filled the room, all the potions Quatre had made since living in the compound, from which they had moved a little over a month ago. Quatre sat Heero down on the bed and went to get a potion._

_Heero found himself starting at his brother's ass and licking his lips. _He's very sexy_, Heero thought, his eyes glazing over._

You love DUO!_ another part of him shouted._

Yes, but you love Quatre, too_, the first part said. _

That's true_, the second conceded._

_Decision made, Heero stood up. He stalked to Quatre and grabbed him from behind. Surprised, Quatre dropped the Drought of Sobriety that he was holding._

_Quatre turned in Heero's arms. His pupils dilated, and he had trouble standing._

_Their lips met in a clash of teeth and noses, tongues forcing their way into the other's mouth._

_Quatre pushed Heero back onto the bed and crawled on top of him. He growled and tore at Heero's shirt. Heero arched as Quatre's lips found his neck, tearing long strips out of Quatre's back with his fingernails._

_"Ahh!" Heero groaned, pumping his hips up against Quatre's. "Sit up." Quatre did so, and Heero tore Quatre's shirt up over his head._

_They met, naked chest to naked chest, their clothed erections rubbing against one another._

_Heero grabbed Quatre and rolled them. He quickly divested them of their pants, and put his mouth to good use._

_"Nn!" Quatre screeched as Heero sucked his cock with the strength of a vacuum cleaner._

_Heero stopped before Quatre came and grabbed a potion bottle off the bedside table. Luckily, he grabbed a moisturizing potion and not one of the more lethal ones. Heero slicked up Quatre's cock, quickly prepared himself, and impaled himself on Quatre._

_"Mmm," they moaned as one. Quatre rolled them over and began pumping into Heero. Their coupling was a frantic affair, Quatre pumping in and out of Heero only a couple of times before spending himself._

_After it was over, Quatre pulled out of Heero and lay beside him, pulling Heero up close to him._

PLF

Heero came out of the memory and stared in horror at Quatre.

"How? What?" He couldn't get out a complete question.

"It was the Lust," Quatre answered. "The next morning, you didn't remember anything, so I took the Memory Potion, and I forgot, too." Quatre moved to hug Heero, but Heero jumped back.

"No. WeDon't touch me!" Heero screamed. He turned on his heel and ran out of the room, ignoring the shouts of his classmates.

PLF

Harry stared at the spot where Heero used to be. "What's his problem?" he asked, confused.

Harry's experience with the potion wasn't completely good, but it wasn't anything that made him want to run hysterically from the room. Or be so mean to his brother.

Whatever happened, Quatre knew what it was.

Quatre sighed. "I'll tell you later." With that, he ran from the room, following Heero.

PLF

Quatre found Heero in Gryffindor Tower. It wasn't hardhe just used their link, which was stronger than ever since Yule.

Quatre sat down on the bed beside Heero. He raised his hand to rub Heero's back but remembered Heero's words. _Don't touch me!_ Quatre sighed and lay his hand beside Heero. "Do you want to talk about it?"

"No." Heero's voice hitched.

"Well, I do." Quatre brought his knees up and rested his chin on them. "You know, I wanted to lose my virginity to Daemon." He chuckled. "Guess I can't do that now, can I? Oh, well."

Heero rounded on Quatre and growled at him. "I"m glad you can be so nonchalant about this, Quatre, but I can't. I have to tell my boyfriend, who I love, that I cheated on him with my own brother. I have to tell him that everything he thought was going on _was_ going on! It's going to break his heart."

Quatre's eyes narrowed. "And _I_ have to tell my boyfriend, _who I love_, that there was someone before him. That all of our plans were for nothing because I'm tainted and unpure!"

Heero let out a sad laugh and crawled into Quatre's lap. "Don't be mad at me. Please." Quatre nodded, and he lay his head on Quatre's shoulder. "How do I tell Duo that we slept together? Our relationship's strained enough as it is. One more thing, and I think he might leave me."

Quatre wrapped his arms around Heero. "Then don't tell him."

"I have to! I can't just not tell him. I've done too much of that. And what do I do when he asks me what I remembered that literally made me flee from the room in general and you in particular? Do I just lie?"

Quatre picked his words carefully. "Tell him that you remembered something involving me, that upset you. Tell him that you don't want to tell him because it'll needlessly upset him, and you don't want to do that. If he loves you half as much as you love him, he'll respect your wish."

Heero laughed. "I'm sure that'll go over real well."

Quatre smiled wistfully. "It'll be okay." His mind wandered back to Daemon. How could he tell his own boyfriend the events? He would understand, Quatre was sure, but it might damage their relationship. Daemon was always uncomfortable about reminders of Quatre's future, and this would shove it right in his face.

"So you love Daemon?" Heero asked, big eyes blinking up at Quatre.

Quatre blushed. "Who knew?" He shrugged, then nodded.

"When did this come about?"

Quatre thought. "I'm not sure. I certainly never meant for it to happenit just did. It just sort of crept up on me."

Heero turned his head away. "We all have somebody keeping us apart now. Somebody to love."

"Yeah," Quatre said, his thoughts, inevitably, turning back to the future. _Unfortunately. Somebody to love, somebody to lose._

PLF

"Where's Harry?" Dorothy asked amid the flurry. It was Saturday, the day of the Slytherin-Ravenclaw game, and everyone was getting ready to go out to the pitch.

"He went ahead with Ron and Hermione," Heero said, coming down from the boys' dorms. He was more subdued since yesterday. Dorothy knew he and Quatre had remembered something they didn't like, but they wouldn't say what, no matter how hard she tried to make them. She could always _order _them, but it didn't seem worth it. Yet.

"Are you sure?" Dorothy's eyes narrowed.

Harry had been sly and secretive all weekDorothy wouldn't put it past him to try and sneak off. She had to admit, she _was_ a bit more protective than usual, but after what happened, she had a right to be. The Hufflepuffs were still being mean to Harry, having figured out for themselves that he had something to do with Smith's disappearance.

"Yes, we're sure," Quatre said, tromping after Heero. "We saw him leave ourselves."

Dorothy did a scan of the common room, looking for Weasley. If he wasn't here, she would assume they were telling the truth. Dorothy found a shock of red hair, but it was too long and too low to be the boy Weasley.

Dorothy sighed. "I guess you're telling the truth. Come on, let's go."

PLF

Harry waited until the tower was clear before coming out of the bathroom. He'd hidden there while Heero and Quatre distracted Dorothy.

Dorothy didn't really approve of Harry's relationship with Balor. Harry could sort of see why, though. Balor _was_ eleven years older than him. Of course, Harry had the feeling that Dorothy would disapprove either way. She didn't exactly like Maxwell, either, and she barely tolerated Daemon.

Harry sneaked back to his dorm roomjust in case there were any stragglersand peeled off his clothes. He was going to Haven the bird's way. He Changed into owl form and preened in front of a mirror. He looked a lot like Hedwig like this.

Harry hooted and, picking up the letter to Balor with his talons, flew out the open window.

PLF

Dorothy pulled her boys along, trying to find Harry. She saw the tall Weasley boy and stalked over to him.

"Where's Harry?" she demanded. She couldn't see him.

"We don't know," Granger said. "He's not with us."

"Yeah," Weasley said. "We figured he was with you."

Dorothy's eyes narrowed, and she turned to Heero and Quatre. "Well, what do you have to say?"

"Well, um..." "We" They hemmed and hawed, saying nothing, fidgeting all the while and refusing to look at Dorothy.

"Where. Is. Harry?" Dorothy stomped her foot. Heero looked like he was about to stall some more. "NOW."

Heero looked away. "Harry'sinHaven," he sputtered.

Dorothy blinked. "WHAT!"

PLF

Balor sat at an easel in the Main Portal. He fancied himself an artist and, as such, could be seen about the town, painting various scenes.

His current painting was not a landscape, as usual, but a portrait. It was of Harry, his beloved. The edges of the painting were done in varying slashes of colorgreen for his eyes and jealousy, blue for the sadness to come, and red for love and Blood. In the center of the painting, Harry sat demurely on nothing. He had multicolored fairy wings sprouting out of his back and an enigmatic smile on his face. Balor loved the painting.

A bird hooted and Balor looked up. There were no birds in Haven. The only creatures who could survive in Haven were Vanuli.

_Someone must like flying_, Balor mused as the snowy owl circled lower and lower in the sky. The owl dropped something, and Balor picked it up. It had his name on it. Frowning, Balor unrolled the parchment. Thankfully, the words were in Vanulian.

_Balor, it's methe owl, I mean. Go get me some clothes, so I can Change back. Love, Harry._

Balor looked up. "Harry?"

The owl...nodded, for lack of a better word.

"All right, then. Follow me." Balor trooped off to the houses, so he could find Harry a robe.

PLF

When Harry was dressed, they gave each other a proper welcome.

"Mm," Harry moaned when Balor kissed him. "I missed you."

"Me, too, my love." Balor picked up Harry, wrapping Harry's legs around his waist. He looked around at the empty room. "What do you say we go somewhere more private?"

Harry giggled. "Let's."

PLF

Harry was nervous. Balor was already naked, adjusting the faucets on the hot tub and moving the various potions around.

"Come on in, Harry," Balor said, sinking into the water. "The water's great."

Harry took off his robe and blushed. He felt so inadequate next to Balor. Balor was a man, and Harry was just a boy. Harry quickly jumped in the water, before Balor could see much of him.

Before Harry knew what was happening, Balor was over top of him, pinning him against the hot tub.

"Er, hi." Harry grinned weakly. Maybe this wasn't such a good idea. After all, Balor was big, very big, at least twice the width of Neville's and longer, too. Of course, Balor _was_ in the form of a quarter giant, so it was to be expected.

"Hello, beautiful." Balor nibbled at Harry's neck, his hand on Harry's crotch.

"Ooh, I like that," Harry said, when Balor began sucking on the vein in his neck. Maybe this was a good idea, after all.

PLF

Harry flew back into Gryffindor Tower, a goofy look on his bird face. He'd just had the best sex of his young life. Balor touched him in all the right places, all the right ways. It was wonderful.

Harry Changed back into a human and began digging in his trunk for pajamas. It was night. The portal had been one of the slow-moving ones, so their sex session had taken all day.

A light came on, and Harry looked up. A Fury Orb. Harry gulped. Dorothy.

"You have been a very bad boy," his Naiyama said. "Now, what am I going to have to. Do. To You?"

Selune


	49. Booamyie Wishes and Bellarmee Dreams

Disclaimer: I do not own any things Harry Potter—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to the wonderful J. K. Rowling and whomever else she decides. I do not own anything Gundam Wing—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to (I think) Bandai and Sunrise.

Spoilers: This fic contains spoilers for books 1-5 of Harry Potter and all of the episodes of Gundam Wing. This fic does not include Endless Waltz.

Rating: R

Pairings: 2x1, Relena/OFC, OMCx4, OMC/Harry

Category: crossover, fantasy, general, drama

Author: Selune

Author's site: Two years ago, the One Year War ended. At this time, the five heroes—the Gundam pilots—disappeared from the Muggle world. Three of them—pilots 02, 03, and 05—reappeared shortly after in the Wizarding world, as students at Hogwarts School of Witchraft and Wizardry. Now, twenty months after the fact, Heero Yuy and Quatre Winner are coming to Hogwarts, and they're bringing all of their secrets with them. The world—especially one Harry Potter—will never be the same.

Peace, Love, and Family:

The Story of the Vanuli Three

Chapter 48: Booamyie Wishes and Bellarmee Dreams

Thursday

January 23, AC 198

7 AM

Dr. J's British base

Dr. J sat at his desk, looking over reports his weapons had filed.

There was a knock on the door, and Dr. J looked up. It must be Beta-6, J's favorite—and most loyal—weapon. He was the only one allowed to disturb Dr. J. J had known Beta-6, formerly Heero Yuy II, since his birth. J had even been at the hospital when Marie Yuy gave birth to him, and he was Beta-6's godfather.

Dr. J took off his glasses and pinched the bridge of his nose. Sometimes, he missed Heero—the original—so much. Heero had been the best friend Dr. J ever had. But he was dead. And avenged. It was time for Dr. J to do something for himself, for once.

"Come in," Dr. J called, and Beta-6 entered the room. "What is your report?"

"Progress is swift," Beta-6 said. "Soon we will begin testing the hologram, to make sure it will work at Hogwarts."

"You're sure that it'll work on Omega-2?" Beta-6 nodded. "What about Omegas-1 and 12?"

Beta-6 shook his head. "It is doubtful. Rumors are such that Omega-1 has been Turned. We don't know enough about Vanuli physiology to configure the message to them."

"Very well. You may leave."

Beta-6 left, and J's eyes traveled to the report Gamma-11 filed two months ago when she thought of the plan. If it worked, they would have a spy back at Hogwarts. One who didn't even know it.

_This better work_, Dr. J thought, setting aside the report.

PLF

Heero and the other Vanuli stood outside the Great Hall, waiting to be let in. It was the middle of breakfast, so many people were just getting there, creating a bottleneck as they all tried to enter at the same time.

"I have a bad feeling," Heero said, as they got closer to the door.

"You're probably just hungry," Daemon said, dismissing him.

"Maybe you're sick." Harry brought his hand up to Heero's forehead, bringing Dorothy's with it. As punishment for sneaking out, Dorothy had bound their arms together. Except for bathroom breaks and showers, they were stuck together for the next two weeks. Harry said it was worth it, though, so Heero didn't comment.

"No, I don't feel bad. I _have a bad feeling_," Heero emphasized his point. It felt like he was trying to have a vision, but it wasn't coming. Actually, he did sort of feel bad. The damn non-vision was giving him a headache.

They finally entered the Great Hall, and a wave of silence greeted them.

"What's going on?" Harry whispered, as they walked to the Gryffindor table. Everybody stared at them.

Heero shrugged.

"How should we know?" Quatre asked.

They got to the table and sat down, Harry and Dorothy on one side, Heero, Quatre, and Daemon across from them.

Everybody was holding what looked like pictures. Heero was about to asked Ron to look at his, as everyone seemed fascinated by them, but Harry beat him to it.

"Hey, mate, let me see that." Harry reached for the picture with the arm not attached to Dorothy, but Ron snatched it away.

"I don't think you really want to see this, Harry."

"Why not?" Harry asked. He was growing upset—Heero knew he hated to be told "no."

Hermione rolled her eyes and handed Harry her picture. "He's going to find out sooner or later. He might as well see it now."

Harry took one look at the picture, and his mouth gaped open. Quatre, seeing his face, snatched the picture, and he and Daemon looked at it.

"It's actually not a bad picture," Daemon commented, turning to Quatre. "You're quite cute in it."

His curiosity peaked, Heero demanded to see the picture. What exactly was on it?

Heero took the picture. His reaction was a mixture of Harry's and Quatre's. He was shocked, but he managed to keep his jaw right where it was supposed to be.

The picture was one of him, Harry, and Quatre in bed. Daemon and Dorothy were in the periphery, and they would occasionally roll over, so their outline could be seen. They were all naked.

"This is it? This is what everybody's so enthralled with?" Heero asked. "You can't even see anything! The sheets are covering us."

"I wouldn't say 'enthralled'—" Hermione said.

"I think it's bloody hot!" Seamus said. He was sitting next to Daemon, and Daemon promptly smacked him. "Well, it is," Seamus sulked.

Heero rolled his eyes and set the picture back on the table. It _was_ a good picture.

"Uh, oh," Harry said. "Somebody's not happy."

"Huh?" Heero turned around, just as Duo tapped him on the shoulder. "Oh."

"We need to talk." Duo didn't look like his usual ball of sunshine, especially with the picture crushed in his hand.

"Sure thing," Heero said, more cheerfully than he felt.

Duo grabbed Heero's arm and dragged him to the far corner, away from everyone. He thrust the crumpled picture into Heero's hand. "What is the meaning of this?"

Heero frowned. Why was Duo so upset? They were only sleeping? "We were only sleeping."

"Only sleeping?" Duo's voice rose. "Naked? Just the three of you?"

"Actually, just the five of us." Heero pointed out the others. "We weren't doing anything wrong."

"Yeah," Duo scoffed. "That's why Quatre's pressed up against your back, holding you like a _lover_."

Heero pursed his lips. So that was what this was about. "That's because the bed's not meant for five people. We have to touch, so we don't fall off. Why are you so upset about this, anyway? We weren't _doing _anything."

"Sure," Duo spat. "First, you won't tell me what made you so upset on Friday, now this. If I didn't know any better, I'd say you were sleeping with one of them."

"I was sleeping with both of them," Heero said slowly, as if to a small child.

"You know what I mean." Duo gritted his teeth.

"Of course, I know." Heero was getting upset, himself. "And it hurts me that you would think that of me." _I will _never _tell him that I had sex with Quatre._

"WHAT!" Duo bellowed.

Heero was puzzled. "I _said_ that it hurt me that—"

"I know what you said," Duo cut him off, "and you said that. You. Slept. With. Quatre."

There was a gasp from behind them, as Parvati Patil and Lavender Brown attempted to leave the Great Hall without disturbing them. They quickly turned tail and headed back to the table.

"Is it true?" Duo asked, turning Heero's attention back to him.

"Heero sighed. "Yes, but—"

"That's all I need to know." Duo's voice grew cold. "We're through." He walked away.

"No, Duo, let me explain!" Heero hurried to catch up with him.

"Don't," was all Duo would say. He wouldn't look at Heero, as he left the Great Hall.

Heero didn't follow him. Harry came up behind him, and Heero collapsed in his arms.

"He left me," Heero whispered. He couldn't believe it.

PLF

Quatre looked down at Heero and Duo. He wasn't sure what they were talking about—if anything, besides the picture—but he would find out in just a few minutes.

Parvati and Lavender, the biggest gossips in the school, sat down by Dean Thomas and that bastard Neville. They whispered in the boys' ears, and Dean's eyes went wide.

"Really?" Dean mouthed. Parvati nodded, and he hurried to tell Seamus.

Seamus hesitated before telling Daemon. Daemon grabbed him by the collar. "Tell me." He practically lifted Seamus out of his seat.

For some reason, when Daemon Turned, he Turned into a warrior Vanuli, instead of a noble. It was rare for one of noble blood to be a warrior, but it happened occasionally. Of course, this meant that Daemon, like Dorothy, was more than ten times stronger, physically, than the average Vanuli—and the average Vanuli was no slouch in the strength department. This meant that Daemon could kill a human with his bare hands without breaking a sweat. And because of his training with Dr. J, he knew just how to make it as painful as possible.

"You better tell him," Dorothy said, sounding bored. She turned to the girl beside her. "And you better tell me." She was definitely in a bad mood from releasing Harry to go find out what was going on.

"I, um," Ginny Weasley stammered. She leaned in and whispered it to Dorothy.

Dorothy's eyes went wide, and she smiled. "It's about time."

In the meantime, Seamus told Daemon.

"What!" Daemon yelled. He turned to Quatre. "Is it true?"

"Is what true?" Quatre asked, his confusion clear. There was only one thing that would make both Duo and Daemon that upset, and there's no way Heero would say anything about it.

"You fucked Heero."

Or maybe he would.

Quatre looked in Daemon's eyes. They were cold, shut off from all emotion. "Technically, yes, but—"

Daemon stood up from the table. "I'm going to Herbology." He stalked out of the room.

Quatre knew better than to follow him.

PLF

Harry stood outside Hagrid's hut, freezing, waiting for class to start. When Harry talked to Hagrid yesterday, after class, Hagrid had been very excited about today's lesson. Something about today's creatures "bein' vera rare."

Harry turned to Dorothy. "What do you think we'll have today?"

Dorothy grunted.

Harry supposed he understood. They were the only ones in class. Heero was up in the dorm, pretending to be sick. Maybe not so much pretending as making himself sick. Quatre was doing was he always did when he was upset: make potions. Harry figured he was in the Room of Requirement. Daemon had retreated to the sanctuary of the Slytherin dungeons. Only Maxwell was here, staying far away from Harry and Dorothy.

There was a _bang_ as Hagrid exited his home. Harry looked and saw that Hagrid was carrying a...jar? Maybe they were going to feed whatever creatures they were going to look at.

As Hagrid came closer, Harry's senses perked up. He could almost see what was in the jar.

Bellarmees! Dozens of them, maybe as much as thirty, more than enough for each student.

Hagrid hailed the class, and they settled down. He set the jar down on a stump.

"Today, we'll be talkin' abou' these little buggers," Hagrid said. "Who can tell me wha' Bellarmees are?"

Hermione, of course, raised her hand. "Bellarmees are insects made by the magic of the Vanuli in Haven, their capital city. They aren't, technically, living, so they can survive there. They live only approximately one week after being taken out of Haven. Vanuli eat Bellarmees as a delicacy, but they are extremely poisonous. Vanuli—or anyone, really—must take an anti-venom before consumption."

"Vera good, 'Ermione," Hagrid said. "Two points to, er, yer last essay."

Hermione beamed.

"So you're saying they eat these _bugs_?" Malfoy sneered. "Disgusting."

Dorothy stalked towards Malfoy, dragging Harry with her through the bonds. "Actually, Malfoy, they are quite delicious. They can make you see things, beautiful, horrible things. They can take you to another plane of existence, where nothing matters but your loved ones, and all of them are with you. It's the closest thing to true magic a human can ever experience.

"Or, they can kill you. Or both."

Harry touched Dorothy's arm. It practically sang with tension. "Dorothy, let's go back by Ron and Hermione. He's not worth our time." Harry had a brief pang of regret that he wasn't Heero. Heero would know what to do. He would use his Gift to soothe their Naiyama, and she wouldn't be so fight-happy.

"Yes, my love," she nodded and led him back to the Gryffindors.

They sat on the ground and held each other. Their family was hurting, badly, and it was affecting them. Harry could feel his brothers' every last emotion through their link, as much as he tried to ignore it.

Hagrid passed out the Bellarmees, instructing the students to examine their bodies and magical signatures as close as they could. It would be on the next test, if not the NEWTs.

Hagrid came to Dorothy and Harry empty-handed. "I canna give yer one," he said.

Harry nodded. "We understand. It would be like putting the rabbit nice and neat into the wolf's mouth."

"Yeah." Hagrid kneeled down beside them. "I hear' wha' happened this mornin'. If yer wan', I'll give yer a note, so yer can talk to them. I'll give them one, too."

"Thanks, Hagrid." He was a good friend.

Harry stood up, helping Dorothy, and they waited for Hagrid to get the passes.

PLF

Heero helped Quatre turn down the bed. All five of them were there, Daemon slinking back sometime before ten. He and Quatre hadn't made up yet, but at least he was there. Duo wouldn't even look at Heero.

Heero sighed. It had been a long day, even though all he had done was sit on the bed and look at pictures of him and Duo together. There weren't many. He was alone but for the time Harry and Dorothy came up to see him, during Care of Magical Creatures. But it was all right. He would be all right. Eventually.

The Vanuli undressed and went to bed, Heero and Dorothy on the outsides.

PLF

About two in the morning, Heero woke up. He figured that, as long as he was awake, he might as well have some fun. He got dressed and went to Quatre's trunk. He pulled out the Booamyie hidden in the third compartment and the Bellarmee anti-venom.

Earlier, Harry told Heero about Hagrid's Bellarmees. They must have escaped from Haven on Saturday, when Harry went to visit Balor. That meant they were pretty close to dying now. Tasty.

Heero took his first swig of Booamyie and made his way down to Hagrid's hut.

He would forget about Duo, at least for a little bit.

PLF

"Where is Heero?" Quatre asked for the fifteenth time that morning. Heero had been gone when they'd woken up, and he hadn't been at breakfast. Dorothy didn't seem worried, though, so he supposed his brother was around here somewhere.

"Hewwo, Quatwa!"

Quatre jumped. _Think of the devil..._ "You're drunk."

Heero raised an empty jar. "And high!"

Quatre looked around the Potions classroom. It was trashed. Potion bottles lay smashed all over the place. Cauldrons were turned over. The whole room smelled like jasmine and ass.

Quatre shook his head. "Heero, what did you do?"

"Anything I wanted," Heero said in an oddly childlike voice. He pouted. "Except for one thing."

Duo. Quatre rolled his eyes. This last episode proved just how unworthy Duo was to have Heero. Sure, Daemon got mad, but he didn't have a hissy fit and break up with Quatre.

"Of course." Quatre took Heero by the arm, trying to lead him away before anyone else came in. He would get him a Sobriety Potion—he had one in his trunk—and everything would be fine.

"Good Lord!"

"Duo!"

_Damn it!_

Heero broke free and ran into his ex's resisting arms.

"Get off me, you whore!" Duo pushed Heero away, and he fell into a pile of glass.

"Hey, you bastard!" Harry yelled, coming into the room.

Quatre helped Heero up. His cuts healed instantly, but his eyes welled up with tears. He looked accusingly at Duo. "You pushed me, you, you, MEAN PERSON!"

"What is the meaning of this?" Snape stalked into the room. Silence descended as the students looked at their professor.

"Um, well," Harry began.

"Why don't you fuck off, Professor." Heero said.

Snape sucked in breath. "Did you do this?" He motioned to the mess.

Heero grinned. "Do you like it? I think it's nice."

Snape sneered. "That'll be a month of detention, Mr. Yuy—"

"You know what?" Heero interrupted. "I don't like you. You're mean." With a word, he froze his professor. He turned back to Duo. "Now, where were we?"

PLF

Heero advanced on his lover. He wouldn't say ex. He wouldn't even think it.

"You were saying how mean I was," Duo drawled.

"Oh, yes." Heero put his arms around Duo's neck. There's a certain crab, the Decorator Crab, that camouflages itself by fastening seaweed, sponges, and other things to its shell with a special glue-like secretion. Heero now imitated the crab's glue to attach his arms to Duo. If Duo tried to push him, they were both going down.

"You were pretending you don't love me. I'll fix that." Heero used all of his energy and focused on Duo with his magic. He used his Gift to bend Duo's will to him. _Love me. Obey me. Be mine. Lovemeobeymebeminelovemeobeymebemine._

Duo's eyes glazed over and his arms went around Heero's waist. "I love you."

"I love you, too."

They kissed, and it was beautiful

Heero vaguely heard Dorothy talking. "Heero, you stop this right now. You know you don't want him like this. Let him go."

"No." Heero kissed Duo again.

"Heero, I am your Naiyama, and I _order_ you to get over here, now, and drink this Sobriety Potion."

"Yes, Ismea." Heero's body tensed. He had to obey. It was a safety mechanism built into all Vanuli. The guardian parent and, if applicable, the Naiyama could order around their Vanuli child, if they said the right words. This was so the more powerful children wouldn't be able to get out of hand.

Heero unglued his arms from Duo, taking the glue away with him. He went to Dorothy and drank the potion.

"Oh, Mother," Heero said after the potion took effect. He swiftly released both Duo and Professor Snape.

"You little—" they said at the same time.

Heero sat down, ignoring them. "I feel sick."

"You're not getting out of this that easily." Duo advanced on Heero.

Dorothy rounded on him. "Sit down and shut up, or I'll kill you. Don't think I won't." She turned back to Heero, bringing Harry with her. She knelt in the glass, but made no sign that she felt it. "Are you okay, sweetie?"

Heero nodded. "Yes, I feel all—" He was cut off by a series of coughs. He brought his hand away from his mouth. It was covered in blood.

"Mother," Harry said.

Quatre pushed Harry and Dorothy out of the way and smelled Heero's hand. "Definitely blood." He took Heero's chin in his hands. "What, exactly, did you take, 'Ro?"

"Just your Booamyie and Hagrid's Bellarmees." He felt like he was going to throw up.

"With or without the anti-venom?"

Heero rolled his eyes. He wasn't stupid. "With, of course. I took yours. It was right next to the Booamyie."

"Heero, I ran out of my anti-venom back in October."

"No. It was right there." Heero remembered. It was even labeled, all nice and neat.

"No, Heero. I don't have any."

Harry broke in. "I think we should get you to the Hospital Wing, just in case." Dorothy released him, and they went to help Heero up. As soon as Harry touched him, his vision blurred, and the Sight came on.

_"They're here!" a young Vanuli girl screamed. Giant spider-women were coming through the portals to Haven._

Flash.

_Balor lay on the ground, his hands on his throat. His only thought: _What have they done to me?

Flash.

_The queen lay sprawled across her throne, covered in blood. No, it wasn't the queen. It was Uralu. But where was Aruvi? Why weren't they Fused? _

_It didn't matter anymore. Uralu stopped breathing._

Heero pulled out of the vision. He pulled on Harry's robe as they struggled to get him upright. "The queen—the queen is dead."

Message delivered, he passed out.

Selune


	50. Heero's Pain

Disclaimer: I do not own any things Harry Potter—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to the wonderful J. K. Rowling and whomever else she decides. I do not own anything Gundam Wing—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to (I think) Bandai and Sunrise.

Spoilers: This fic contains spoilers for books 1-5 of Harry Potter and all of the episodes of Gundam Wing. This fic does not include Endless Waltz.

Rating: R

Pairings: 2x1, Relena/OFC, OMCx4, OMC/Harry

Category: crossover, fantasy, general, drama

Author: Selune

Author's site: Two years ago, the One Year War ended. At this time, the five heroes—the Gundam pilots—disappeared from the Muggle world. Three of them—pilots 02, 03, and 05—reappeared shortly after in the Wizarding world, as students at Hogwarts School of Witchraft and Wizardry. Now, twenty months after the fact, Heero Yuy and Quatre Winner are coming to Hogwarts, and they're bringing all of their secrets with them. The world—especially one Harry Potter—will never be the same.

Peace, Love, and Family:

The Story of the Vanuli Three

Chapter 49: Heero's Pain

"Oh, God. Heero!" Harry cried out, catching his brother as he fell.

The room erupted into chaos. The other students—they had gotten there during the argument—panicked.

"Is he going to be okay?" Lavender cried.

"What's wrong with him?" Seamus asked.

The class crowded around Heero.

"Move BACK!" Dorothy roared, and they parted, letting her get to her boy. She knelt in front of him. He was pale; sweat was pouring off of him. "Quatre, Daemon, get over here."

They hurried to obey.

Dorothy didn't look up. "Daemon, I need you to go to Haven and get the antidote to Bellarmee venom. Get no less than five bottles, and hurry. Heero could die if he doesn't get it soon."

Daemon nodded and Changed into a house elf, his clothes falling to the floor. He teleported away.

"Quatre."

He came to attention.

"I need you to figure out what is in this bottle." She held up the bottle which Heero thought held Bellarmee antivenin. It was cracked, but there were a few drops left in it. Hopefully, it would be enough for analysis.

"Harry."

He tightened his hold on Heero and began shaking his head. "This isn't happening again. It's not."

"Harry, listen to me," Dorothy commanded. Harry continued rocking back and forth, his hold on Heero never loosening. "Heero got better last time, and he will again. Heero is strong—a survivor—and he's lived through much worse than a little poisoning, but if you don't get ahold of yourself, we could lose him."

That seemed to penetrate his mind. He stopped rocking. "What do you need me to do?" he asked, his voice just this side of panic.

"Run to the Hospital Wing and alert Madam Pomfrey. Have her firecall Maddy. I'll be right behind you with Heero."

Harry nodded, handing Heero to Dorothy, and ran off. A few steps from the door, he shook his head and teleported to the Infirmary.

Dorothy looked at the boy in her arms. She smiled lovingly and brushed his hair out of his eyes. "You'll be all right. I command it."

She placed a Lightening Charm on him and lifted him, like a husband taking his bride over the threshold.

Everyone got out of her way without her having to say a word.

"You have to be okay," she whispered.

PLF

Dorothy and Harry sat by Heero's bed. Heero was in the same one as he was last time. Hopefully, his stay wouldn't be as long this time around.

"He's going to be all right, right?" Harry asked, looking hopefully at Dorothy. _He can't die. Not now. I've just barely found him._

"Of course." Dorothy scooted her chair closer to Harry's. She wrapped her arms around him. "By this time next week, this'll all be an unpleasant memory."

Harry sighed, relaxing into his Naiyama's embrace. "I hope so." By now, he was sure, the whole school had figured out that she was Heero's Naiyama, too. It wasn't good, but there was nothing they could do about it. "Has Quatre been able to figure out what was in that bottle?"

It was almost midnight. Quatre had been working all day. Daemon, after delivering the antidote a little after nine a.m., had gone to the Room of Requirement to keep watch on him.

They had Heero in stasis, just in case what was in the bottle was poisonous. It was weird, seeing Heero hooked up to all of Maddy's machines, but hearing no bleeps or blips. Almost like he was dead.

_Stop it, Harry!_

Dorothy tensed and pulled away from Harry. "He found out." A pause. "It was Kimari."

Harry knew he'd heard of it before, but he couldn't quite place it—probably in Potions class. He didn't pay much attention in there. "What's Kimari?"

"It's a magic drainer. Sort of a liquid Fury Shooter, only the magic doesn't go anywhere. It just dissipates. At first, it's just the surface magic. You can't do the harder spells, then none at all. Next goes your ability to use potions and magical objects. Finally, it affects your magical core. You wouldn't even be able to see Hogwarts, anymore.

"We used it against wizards in the Great War. Laced their water supplies with it, but it didn't work against them. Only on Vanuli. No non-Vanuli knows how to make it."

Harry swallowed. "So that means a Vanuli did this?"

Dorothy nodded. "Yes. A Vanuli—or several—tried to kill us."

"Kill us? Does Kimari kill?" Harry looked over at Heero. His skin was so pale, from the lack of blood flow, probably.

"It's not poisonous, but Bellarmees are."

A light went off in Harry's head. "That was meant for all of us."

"Yes."

"If we'd all taken it..."

"If we'd all taken it, shared it like Vanuli should, we would be dead, or worse—magicless."

Harry wrapped his arms around himself and shivered. "Who would do such a thing?"

"Someone who doesn't want you to defeat Voldemort and Dr. J."

PLF

Duo lingered outside of the Infirmary, carrying a pass he'd threatened out of Malfoy. If anybody asked, he didn't feel well and was going to see Madam Pomfrey. The real reason, of course, was that he was going to see Heero.

Duo couldn't begin to describe how bad he felt. He was such an ass. Heero was so good to him, but Duo just couldn't seem to trust him.

_I hope Catalonia and the others are gone._

They should be, as it was almost one o'clock in the morning. Pomfrey usually threw everybody out at nine.

Duo sneaked into the room, the skills he acquired as a Gundam pilot never waning. He looked around the room, but no one was there.

Someone was lightly snoring in one of the other beds. _There must have been a Potions accident._ There usually was on Fridays—that was the day the first years had Potions.

Duo came to Heero's old bed. Pomfrey had a tendency to stick people in the same beds visit after visit, so Heero was probably in there.

Duo hesitated before opening the curtain. Did he really want to start down that road again? It hadn't even been two days since the breakup, and already Duo's heart clenched at the thought of Heero.

_I love him_, Duo thought, _and I'll do anything for him, starting now._

Duo quietly opened the curtains and slipped into Heero's "room." Heero was there, but no one else was. Good.

Duo took a seat and grasped Heero's hand. It was cold.

"Hey, 'Ro. How ya been?" Duo brushed Heero's bangs out of his eyes. Heero's breathing was slow and shallow. "I've been better, but I think you win, this time."

Duo moved to sit on the bed. He ran his hand down Heero's chest, stopping at his belly button.

"Hey, do you remember that time during the war, when we were all together? It was after my capture—I remember that. We were at one of Quatre's houses, with some of the Maguanacs. That was the first place I told you I loved you. I still do, with all of my heart.

"Anyway, I was bugging Wufei—I don't remember what I was doing, exactly, but he could probably tell you—and you came out to the hanger. You were going to fix Wing—though he wasn't damaged in the last battle—but you stopped when you saw us arguing. You came over, grabbed me, and kissed me so so hard I saw stars. Of course, you walked away right after, leaving me and Wufei gaping after you."

Duo smiled, remembering. "We were so happy, then, even with the war. What happened to us, 'Ro?"

The curtain was ripped open, and Duo jumped and turned around. Dorothy.

Duo vaguely noted that the snoring had stopped.

"You happened," Dorothy spat, "and I'm not going to let it continue."

PLF

Dorothy glared icicles at Maxwell. How dare he show up here after what he did? Heero would never have even gotten drunk if it hadn't been for his grief over his and Maxwell's relationship.

"Get out."

Maxwell stood, glaring back. "No."

So, it was a face-off he wanted? Dorothy would be happy to oblige. "I've giving you fifteen seconds to leave before I get very, very angry."

Maxwell scoffed. "What? Am I supposed to be scared?"

"Any intelligent person would be, so I guess, the answer's 'no.' Fifteen."

"Ooh, insulting my intelligence. How juvenile."

"I'll do more than insult your intelligence. I'll break it. Twelve."

"I'm shaking, Dorothy. Truly."

"As you should be. I'm a very scare person. Nine."

"Well, I don't—"

"Eight."

"—think I'll be—"

"Seven."

"—able to go on—"

"Six."

"—like this, you—"

"Five."

"—stupid _cunt_—"

"Four."

"I'M NOT—"

"Three."

"—LEAVING HERE—"

"Two."

"—UNTIL I TELL HIM THAT—"

"One."

"I love him."

Dorothy gasped at his audacity.

"You _love_ him? _You _love _him_?" Dorothy fought back the urge to laugh. Harry was just in the other bed, and Heero had been taken out of stasis and given the antivenin antidote. Either could be woken up easily. It was a miracle they were both still asleep, given Maxwell's yelling. "You sure have a twisted way of showing it, human."

"Just because I'm not always nice doesn't mean it's not true."

" 'Not always nice,' " Dorothy quoted. "You called him a whore, pushed him away—figuratively and literally—and broke up with him in the middle of the Great Hall. And that's just counting the last two days. Do not even make me think of last term, when you completely ignored him, were outright _hostile_ to my baby—"

"Okay, okay, so I'm a horrible boyfriend and a worse person. Don't I deserve a chance to make it up to him?"

"No," Dorothy stated. "This was your chance to make it up to him. You blew it. Now leave, or I'll do to you what I did to Smith." Nobody had to know that Harry's ex was safe and sound, albeit far, far away.

Maxwell gulped. "But I love him."

"I don't care. You don't deserve him, and that's that."

"Dorothy, who're you talking to?"

Dorothy whirled around to spy Harry, in pajamas, rubbing the sleep from his eyes. They narrowed upon seeing Maxwell.

Before she could say or do anything, Harry was stalking across the room. He drew back his arm as far as it would go and let loose, punching Maxwell square in the nose. Maxwell fell over one of the chairs and hit the ground.

Harry stood over him, chest heaving. He trained his wand on Maxwell. "The only reason I don't kill you where you cower is because it would upset Heero. He needs to be calm to heal properly. Leave."

"Fine." Duo huffed. "I know when I'm not wanted. I'll go."

Harry stood aside and let Maxwell walk away. Maxwell got to the curtain and turned back.

"I know neither of you likes me, but Heero loves me. I _will_ get him back. Easily." With that, Maxwell left.

Dorothy rushed to Harry and held him in her arms. "Are you okay, Harry?"

Harry nodded into Dorothy's shoulder, but she could feel him shaking. Whether from sadness or anger, she didn't know.

PLF

Quatre slaved over a hot cauldron, trying to get the antidote just right, so he could save his brother. Sure, Kimari wouldn't kill him, but it would leave him defenseless. With neither his magic nor his strength, Heero would be helpless to attack. Quatre wouldn't let that happen.

Only, Quatre had never made Mariki—the antidote—before. There was no need, for who would do such a thing as to need it?

Quatre scowled. It was one of the warriors, obviously. They and Quatre's family were the only ones to have access to his trunk, seeing as he'd bought it specifically for Hogwarts. It had never seen the light of Haven.

Of course, that narrowed the list down by a lot. Instead of 8,000 suspects, there were less than 200. Relena and her clan, Morgan, all of Quatre's brothers and sisters, and the warrior Vanuli who showed up to kill Tashpi at her wedding. It obviously wasn't the triplets or Dorothy or Daemon. They wouldn't attack themselves. Relena's family was out, too. All that was left was Morgan's other children, Morgan, and the warriors. Morgan wouldn't do it—she loved her children too much, even if she never saw them. And Quatre's brothers and sisters wouldn't dare do anything to bring out Morgan's wrath. That just left the warriors, which was just too many.

"Dae, will you hand me the bicorn liver?" Quatre asked. When he didn't answer, Quatre turned to his boyfriend.

Daemon lay, sleeping, on one of the tables. His mouth was open, and he was snoring so quietly that Quatre could barely hear it.

Quatre smiled at his boyfriend and yawned. Quatre transfigured some parchment into a blanket and laid it over Daemon. It _was_ rather late. Quatre would go to sleep as soon as the potion was ready to simmer, and not a minute before.

Quatre ran his fingers through Daemon's hair and kissed him on the temple. "Sleep well, Dae."

He turned back to his potion and added the liver.

PLF

The next night, Duo sneaked into the Infirmary, again. Only this time, he knew Catalonia and Potter weren't there. They were at dinner, complaining—very loudly—at Madam Pomfrey for kicking them out for the duration. Oddly enough, Daemon and Quatre weren't there with them.

Duo, once again, hesitated outside Heero's curtains. Did he really want to see Heero? It would be so easy to scamper off and pretend that everything was all Heero's fault, and that he made himself sick just to get Duo back.

"Come in, if you're coming."

Duo jumped straight out of his skin, he was so startled, but he went in. "Heero, you're..."

"Awake? Alive? Absolutely gorgeous?" Heero asked, cheekily. He looked sick. _Well, _Duo supposed, _he is. _He was pale, clammy. He had dark circles under his eyes, and his eyes were bloodshot.

"All three," Duo said. He felt weird—Heero wasn't supposed to be awake. It was so much harder—and easier—when he was awake. He moved to sit on the bed but changed his mind. He settled into the chair he'd been in last night. "How are you?"

Heero pushed himself up. "Why are you here, Duo?" he asked, wearily.

"I-I wanted to see you."

"Of course. You want to see me, now that I'm sick." Heero pinched the bridge of his nose. "You know, Duo, I can't take this yo-yoing anymore. Either you want to be with me or you don't. If you're just here because you feel guilty, you can leave."

Duo grabbed Heero's hand—the one without the I.V.—and jumped up. "I don't feel guilty. . . Well, maybe a little, but that's not why I'm here. I want to be with you, Heero. I love you. I—"

"For how long, Duo?" Heero challenged. "How long will you love me because you're so afraid of losing me? Until the next time you're reminded of what I did to you? Until the next time I make a mistake? Until the next bloody full moon? When, Duo? When will you forgive me?" Heero wrenched his hand away and turned to look at the curtain.

Duo didn't know how to answer that. "I will love you until the end of time. As for how long I'll show it, I don't know."

"That's not good enough." Heero sighed. "I heard everything you said last night."

Duo blushed. "I didn't—you weren't—"

"I know," Heero said. "I do remember, though. Do you remember later that day? We were inside the house; our Gundams were fixed. You said something to Wufei, and he got mad. He pulled out his wand and tried to hex you, but you held up a mirror, and it ricocheted off."

"And hit you."

Heero nodded. "It wasn't bad, just a Jelly-Legs Jinx, but it interfered with my wards.

"I took my pills, but they didn't help any. I even had a seizure or two. Finally, Quatre had to come and give me my shot. By then, I was too weak to move."

"Quatre said you had the flu and wouldn't let any of us see you. He said, as the only with who had his flu shot, he would take care of you, because he didn't want any more pilots out of commission. He was very scary that day."

Heero smiled. "He's scary a lot of days, but that's what makes him Quatre."

Duo chuckled and rubbed Heero's thigh.

"Don't." Heero removed Duo's hand.

Duo sighed. "Heero, I'm trying here, okay? I want to be with you. Why can't you just accept that?"

Heero shook his head. "The same reason you can't accept me. We've hurt each other too much. We just need some time apart."

"We don't have any time!" Duo exclaimed. He lowered his voice. "In less than two month, you're going to leave me. For good, this time. I want to be with you as much as possible beforehand."

"Then, why—" Heero's voice broke. "They, why did you break up with me? You didn't even let me explain! You pushed me away and called me a whore. But I'm not a whore! Not anymore." He whispered the last bit, obviously not meaning for Duo to hear it.

Duo let it go, for now. Once he and Heero were good, Duo would drag it out of him.

"I was angry," Duo said. "I was afraid you wanted Quatre more than me. I wanted to hurt you. Other reasons."

Heero looked down. "Can you promise not to do it again?"

"No," Duo whispered.

"Then, I can't take you back." Heero reached out and squeezed Duo's hand before letting go. "Leave, Duo. Please."

The curtain ruffled. "Yes, Duo, run away."

Duo looked back. It was Quatre. Duo looked through him. He was unimportant. Only Heero mattered.

Duo turned back to Heero. "Can I kiss you?"

Heero nodded. "Yes."

Duo leaned down. He lifted Heero's chin, so their eyes met. Duo softly brushed his lips against Heero's. Heero's mouth opened, and Duo swept his tongue into it, memorizing it. He might never do this again. Finally, Duo pulled away. He rubbed his palm over Heero's hand. "Good night, 'Ro."

"I love you," Heero said quietly.

Duo nodded and left.

PLF

Quatre stared at Duo's retreating back. He couldn't believe it. Heero had actually turned him down!

Quatre shook his head and turned back to his brother. "I come bearing potion," he said, cheerfully. He held up the bright green, steaming vial.

"What? Oh, good," Heero said, coming back from whatever it was he was thinking. "What is it? Another magic restorative?"

Quatre shook his head. "It's _the _magic restorative. It's Mariki, the antidote to Kimari. Take this, and you'll be right as rain in no time." He handed the potion to Heero.

Heero took it in both hands. He blew on it before downing it in one swallow. "Not bad," he said. "Tastes like cinnamon tea."

Quatre smiled. "How do you feel?"

"No different." Heero put the vial on the bedside table. "How did you manage to sneak past Madam Pomfrey and Maddy?"

Quatre laughed. "I didn't. They tried to stop me, so I chewed them out for it. After all, I've been making this antidote for over a day."

"What about Harry and—"

"They're on their way. I told Harry through this." He tapped his temple. "Daemon's waiting outside—I couldn't get him in, but I'm sure Dorothy will be able to."

Quatre moved to sit down, but Heero grabbed his wrist.

"Quat, before they get here, I need to tell you about my vision," Heero said. "They were coming to Haven. J's people were everywhere. They got Balor—"

"Heero, it was just a—"

"Quatre, they killed the queen—"

"—hallucination. The Bellarmees caused you to see things. That was all."

Heero grabbed Quatre and shook him, almost falling out of the bed. "Quatre, she was Unfused. J Unfused the queen and killed her!"

Quatre sighed. "You know as well as I do that Bellarmees make you see things when eaten without the antivenin. These things you saw—what you thought you saw—no matter how real they felt, they weren't. They were hallucinations, honey."

"But it felt exactly like a vision." Heero looked lost.

Quatre embraced his brother. "I know, but nothing bad is going to happen to Haven. Only Vanuli can survive there, remember?"

Quietly, Quatre's inner conscious was screaming, _What if I'm wrong?_

Selune


	51. The Prophecy Potion

Disclaimer: I do not own any things Harry Potter—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to the wonderful J. K. Rowling and whomever else she decides. I do not own anything Gundam Wing—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to (I think) Bandai and Sunrise.

Spoilers: This fic contains spoilers for books 1-5 of Harry Potter and all of the episodes of Gundam Wing. This fic does not include Endless Waltz.

Rating: R

Pairings: 2x1, Relena/OFC, OMCx4, OMC/Harry

Category: crossover, fantasy, general, drama

Author: Selune

Author's site: Two years ago, the One Year War ended. At this time, the five heroes—the Gundam pilots—disappeared from the Muggle world. Three of them—pilots 02, 03, and 05—reappeared shortly after in the Wizarding world, as students at Hogwarts School of Witchraft and Wizardry. Now, twenty months after the fact, Heero Yuy and Quatre Winner are coming to Hogwarts, and they're bringing all of their secrets with them. The world—especially one Harry Potter—will never be the same.

Peace, Love, and Family:

The Story of the Vanuli Three

Chapter 50: The Prophecy Potion

February 2, AC 198

Sunday

7:15 PM

Moaning Myrtle's bathroom

"Hey, Myrtle," Harry said, leading his brothers and Dorothy into the bathroom. It would be the third bathroom they'd cleaned in a week.

Because Heero drank what he knew to be an intoxicating substance and because Quatre owned said substance, both of them had detention. Dorothy went with them because, by now, everyone knew that she was Heero's Naiyama, and she wasn't about to let any of her babies out of her sight. For that reason, she dragged Harry down with them.

Myrtle blushed silver. "Hi, Harry. You never come see me anymore," she accused.

"I don't want to bother you," Harry said, placating her.

"Who do you have with you?" she asked, looking at the others.

"Oh. These are my brothers, Heero Yuy and Quatre Winner, and my Naiyama, Dorothy Catalonia. We're here to clean the bathroom."

"You're not here to see me?" she scowled and floated back to her toilet, making it overflow.

"Hey!" Dorothy yelled, trying to keep her robes dry. "That was unnessecary."

Myrtle sniffed and began sobbing. "Why doesn't anybody like me?"

"Oh, brother," Harry muttered. "Not again." He pasted the brightest smile on his face and knocked on the stall door. "Myrtle, _I _like you."

The crying immediately stopped, and Myrtle floated out of her toilet. "Really?"

"Really, but I do have to work, now. Professor McGonagall will have a cow if we don't get this place cleaned up."

"Okay, Harry, I'll just keep you company."

Satisfied that that was over—for now—Harry turned to his brothers. They whispered back and forth to each other, their hands covering their mouths. Harry groaned. They were going to tease him later. He just knew it.

Harry clapped his hands, startling his brothers. "Let's get to work."

As the boys passed out mops and sponges, Dorothy transfigured a sink into a chair, as she had the last two times they'd done this. She felt—as she loudly declared—that Heero, at least, deserved his punishment, and she wouldn't help him out of it.

Harry rolled his eyes—she was such an aristocrat sometimes. Harry would help Heero and Quatre, just so the work would go faster. He took off his robe and handed it to Dorothy. She'd agreed to keep their things clean while they worked.

After thirty minutes of working, the bathroom was well on its way to being clean.

"Time for a break," Dorothy announced, as she often did.

Harry was glad for it. He may be used to cleaning at the Dursleys—_Mother, may I never go back there—_but that didn't mean that he didn't get tired of doing it. By the looks of it, Heero and Quatre were worse off than him. _I guess piloting a Gundam doesn't lend well to cleaning, _Harry thought.

He sat down on a dry, clean patch of floor, where Quatre had been mopping earlier.

He had been thinking on something all week, ever since Heero's "accident." He just didn't know how to phrase it to ask his family. He didn't want to seem naïve or stupid, as was sometimes the case. "Why don't we use Kimari to defeat Voldemort and Dr. J? It would be easy to kill them once they were magicless."

Heero sat up. "You know, I've been thinking that, too. Sooner or later, J will have Voldemort Turn him Vanuli, if only to not be the weaker of the pair. All we have to do is wait until then, then strike."

"But how do we get it to them?" Quatre challenged. "I'm sure they're guarded at all times."

"Besides," Dorothy said, "Kimari takes months to be completely effective, while the antidote takes only a couple of hours to make. There is no doubt in my mind that whoever gave Quatre the Kimari was working for Dr. J or Voldemort, which means that they'll both know the antidote."

"Oh." Harry leaned back against Quatre. "Well. It was only an idea."

Things were silent for a moment.

"I have an idea," Heero spoke up.

"Oh?" Dorothy asked. "What is it?"

Heero told them.

"Oh. Wow," Harry stammered. It was brilliant! Dr. J and Voldemort would never guess.

"Do you think it'll work?" Quatre asked.

"Well, we have to keep in mind that nobody's ever done it before," Heero said. "If we can do it, then yeah, I would say—"

"You do realize that if this works, you can never come back to Haven," Dorothy said, her voice hard as stone. "No more Bellarmees. No more Games. No more Balor. No more Daemon. No more _me._"

Harry, actually, hadn't thought of that. "Oh. Yeah. I guess, um, we could—"

"We could send for you!" Quatre burst out. "That way, we'd all be together."

Dorothy shook her head. "No. It's too risky. I forbid it." She stalked out of the room.

Harry looked at his brothers. "What's _her _problem?"

Quatre and Heero shrugged, and the three of them went back to work.

PLF

Dorothy paced in front of the door to the bathroom.

How could her Niamos agree to something like that? After everything she did for them, how could they just throw themselves away? Throw her away?

No. It wasn't going to happen.

PLF

"Hand it over," Heero said to Harry, reaching to get his toast.

"Hey!" Harry paused. "Fine." He speared Quatre's bacon with his fork, holding it up like a trophy.

"Eggs," Quatre said, handing his plate to Heero.

Heero rolled his eyes, scraping his eggs onto Quatre's plate.

"Why don't you just get what you like, instead of doing all this trading?" Hermione asked, her eyes twinkling.

"It's more fun this way," Heero explained, biting into his toast.

Dorothy laughed at them. She was in a much better mood than last night.

A deep rustling broke Heero's—and everybody else's—attention, and he looked up.

"Mail's here!" Ron exclaimed.

Heero groaned—Yinau, the Ounta bird, was here. Again. The last time Yinau came, he brought a dozen red roses. Zetoth had heard about Heero's accident and sent them as a "get well" gift. He meant for Heero to wear them in his garland, but Heero decided to put them in a vase, instead.

Yinau swooped down and landed behind Heero's seat. Heero was already turned around to meet him.

"Yinau, son of Yirey, son of Yideu, son of Yinoi, founder of the Yi flock. I have come to you, Heero Yuy of the LeFey clan, to bring a most precious gift."

Yinau stuck out his leg, and Heero unwrapped the package from his claw.

"What is it?" Heero asked, knowing that Yinau wouldn't answer.

"I cannot tell you that," Yinau said.

"Yeah, yeah. _Diffindo_." Heero had put the gift on the table. The box fell away to reveal a golden box. Heero put the box on his lap. He lifted the lid and gasped.

"What? What is it?" Harry asked, crowding Heero to look inside the box. "Oh, Mother!"

Quatre, Dorothy, and the others clamored to see.

"Quite," Dorothy said. "It's a—"

"Pan flute," Quatre finished, as Heero took it out of the box.

Heero put it to his mouth and played a few notes. The tune was haunting, melodious. Beautiful. Heero put down the flute to find most of the eyes in the Great Hall on him.

"Ahem," came the voice behind him.

Heero turned back around. He'd almost forgotten that Yinau was there. "Yes?"

"My great friend, Zetoth Koel, wishes to meet with you."

"All right," Heero said, before thinking. "I'll meet with him." _I need to speak with him about these gifts, anway._ Heero caressed his flute.

Yinau nodded and flew off.

"So, you're really going to meet with him?" Harry asked.

"I suppose so," Heero answered. He shrugged, ignoring the look Dorothy was giving him.

Heero sighed. This might have been a bad idea.

PLF

Quatre sat down quickly as Snape stalked into the room. His scowl was fiercer than usual—with good reason. Trelawny had informed them that morning that they'd be making the Prophecy Potion in Potions, today. They would be trying it out in Divinations on Wednesday.

"As several of you already know," Snape sneered, "today we will be making the Prophecy Potion. I expect it to be perfect, because you'll be drinking it, for those of you taking _Divinations_." He spat out the word like he would an accidentally swallowed gnat.

"Instructions are on the board. Now, get to work."

The class sprang into action, Quatre included. He marched to the storage room to get his ingredients.

Artemsia, bloodwort, jasmine, rowan bark," Quatre muttered as he placed his ingredients in a basket. Most of the students carried theirs in their hands, but Quatre had learned early on that that led to mixed-up ingredients and broken bottles. "Death flower, heliotrope, and archangel." Gathering the last of his ingredients, Quatre went back to his seat.

"I hate Potions," Daemon muttered as he stomped back to the desk. It looked like he'd been in one of the class's infamous accidents—he was covered in white powder. Even his hair. At least, nothing was green, and he wasn't growing any tentacles.

"What happened?" Quatre tried to keep a straight face.

"Longbottom." That was all he needed to say.

Quatre nodded and went back to his work. They would be working alone today.

The Prophecy Potion was named such because it greatly increased one's natural divining abilities. If a person didn't have any psychic talents, then drinking the potion would be like taking foul-tasting water. But if the person did have some talent, the potion would almost triple his abilities. If taken enough times, the effect was permanent.

Realizing he was finished, Quatre looked down at his potion. And smiled. It was a perfect baby blue—just like it should be.

Quatre only hoped that Heero's and Harry's would be as good.

PLF

"You know, you don't _have _to do this," Quatre said, as they walked out of Defense class.

"Yes, I do," Heero sighed. He was doing that a lot, lately.

"You're taking Daemon with you," Dorothy stated.

He'd figured. "I figured. Though, I am surprised that you're letting me go at all."

"What? Surprised that I'm letting my baby boy—who just out of the Hospital Wing, by the way—go traipsing off into the _Forbidden_ Forest—which is forbidden for a reason—I guess you're right." A pause. "I'm leaving Harry and Quatre in a bubble and following you."

"What?" Harry yelled.

"NO!" Quatre forced them to stop. "Dorothy, you can't go around just putting people in bubbles. And what I mean by that is that you can't just go around putting _me_ in bubbles. Not only is it inconvenient, but it'll alert people to our. . .triple aspect."

"I suppose so, but why are we keeping it a secret now, anyway?" Dorothy asked. "Dr. J and Lord Voldemort both—presumably—already know about your _aspect_, so why not let the general public know and come to fear you?"

"It's the 'fear us' part that worries me," Harry said. "I'd like for my last month and a half in the human world to be as normal as possible. Well, for a fairy tale being, savior of the Wizarding world orphan."

Heero realized that, at some point, they'd begun talking in Vanulian.

"Sorry, I'm late," Daemon said, making all four Vanuli jump. The tension between Dorothy and Harry was thick enough to cut with a spoon.

"Fine," Dorothy said through gritted teeth. "We won't tell anyone, and I won't put you and Quatre in bubbles." She turned to Heero. "I will, however, be putting you in a bubble." Heero made to protest, but Dorothy put her hand up. "You'll be the one in danger, and it's already been established that I'm your Naiyama."

Heero nodded. He knew he couldn't get out of it, unless he completely back out of going, and he wasn't going to do that. "Okay."

Dorothy turned to Daemon. "You are going with him." She turned to Harry and Quatre. "And you two are coming with me to visit Professor Hagrid. Heero, if you need help, call out to one of them, and I'll be there in less than two seconds."

Heero and the others just nodded. By now, they knew better than to argue with Dorothy about stuff like this.

"Great!" Dorothy clapped her hands together. "Let's put our books away and get going."

PLF

"How much further is the grove?" Daemon asked, pulling himself up a small incline with the help of a tree root.

"Not much farther, if I remember correctly," Heero answered. His bubble was giving him trouble on getting up the incline. "I've only, uh, been there once." His foot stuck on the root, and he went tumbling back down. "Damn bubble! Damn Dorothy!" he grumbled. "Doesn't think I can protect myself. I've been taking care of myself since she was sucking her thumb in Haven."

"Here, let me help you," Daemon said. Before Heero could answer, he was levitated to the top.

"Oh. Thanks." Heero brushed imaginary dirt off his shirt. Despite all his declarations of love, loyalty, and brotherhood, Heero was still a little wary around Daemon, sometimes. But only sometimes. One does not just get over five years of betrayal overnight.

Just like one does not get over two years of it overnight, either. But it Heero could forgive Daemon, Duo damn well better be able to forgive him. Anything else was juvenile.

"I think it's just a little bit away, now," Heero said. "The ground should be pretty flat from now on."

"Good."

A few minutes later, Heero saw smoke. "We're here!" he exclaimed to Daemon.

Daemon came crashing through the trees. "Really? Well, um, what do you want me to do, when you meet him?"

Heero smiled. Daemon tried so hard—he could almost be a Hufflepuff. Heero inwardly cringed at the memory. He was a Gryffindor through and through. "Could you just—just stay back a bit, okay? Out of listening range, but keep me in your sight. Dorothy will have a fit if you don't."

Daemon nodded. "Okay."

They were approached by a graying centaur.

"Dona Maya, Bramtac." Heero introduced Daemon to the centaur leader.

"Dona Maya, Imela, Kidayo. It is a joy to welcome you to our home," Bramtac said, in his booming voice. "Why have you come to visit us this afternoon?"

"Actually, I came to see Zetoth. Kidayo is here as my bodyguard." Heero had the grace to blush. "Ismea wouldn't let me out of the castle without him."

"Thus, the need for the bubble surrounding you." Bramtac chuckled. "Ismea is not the first overprotective Naiyama I have ever met, nor will she be the last." He started to clap Heero on the shoulder, but the bubble wouldn't let him. "Come! Zetoth is this way."

Heero followed Bramtac, saying nothing. They reached a grass hut—like in Haven, the houses had no doors—and Heero went in. Daemon stayed at the entrance, and Bramtac left, presumably to wherever he had been before their arrival.

Heero spotted Zetoth at the far side of the hut. The whole place was dark.

Heero shook his head and went over to Zetoth. "Hey," he said, and Zetoth jumped.

"Oh, Heero, you're here!" Zetoth exclaimed. "Sit. Sit."

Heero looked around. The place was bare. "Uh, okay." He made to sit on the floor, but Zetoth stopped him.

"Sorry. I, uh, I got you this, to sit on." Zetoth produced a nice size log, perfect for sitting. Heero accepted the log and was soon seated comfortably on it, with Zetoth settled beside him. "So, uh, what did you want to talk about?"

"Actually, I wanted to return something." He reached in the bag at his foot and pulled out the pan flute. He set it as close to Zetoth as the bubble would let him, then scooted back. Dorothy had put a spell on it to allow it to pass through the bubble. "I can't keep this."

Zetoth picked up the flute. "But why? It's a symbol of my love. . ."

"That's just it, Zetoth." Heero paused. There was no way to say this without hurting Zetoth. "I don't love you, and I never will. I have other responsibilities, and—"

"I know about your brothers," Zetoth interrupted. "Everybody does. You'll have to be with them after your Life Day. I get that. Just. . .don't you want some experiences of your own before then?"

"I've had my own experiences," Heero said. "I've lived a full life. I've done things most people can't begin to fathom. I have a great family. And. . .I'm already in love."

"I've never seen you with anybody."

"Our relationship is complicated, at the best of times. I did something, once, that really hurt him, and he's never really forgiven me. We're trying to work through it." Heero twisted his robes in his hands. Thinking of Duo hurt, sometimes. "The thing is, is that I love him with my whole heart. There will never be anyone else. Not for me."

"Basically, I have no change, right?" Balor's voice was thick.

"Right."

"I understand, I guess," Balor said. "We can still be friends, though."

"Sure." Though, Heero couldn't tell why he would want to be. Heero would never be able to be "just friends" with Duo.

"Then I—then I want you to keep this." Balor pushed the flute towards Heero. "And think of me when you play it, whether you're Prince Imela LeFey or King Imalat LeFey."

Heero wrapped his fingers around the flute. "Thanks." He wished he could hug Zetoth—he looked like he needed it. "For everything. Good-bye, Zetoth Koel."

"Good-bye, Heero Yuy."

Heero met Daemon at the entrance.

"Are you—" Daemon asked.

"Yeah, I'm fine," Heero said, wiping his eyes. "Let's go back to Hogwarts."

PLF

"Take your seats, class," Professor Trelawny said as Quatre and the others entered the room. Quatre took his seat next to Heero.

"Today, we're going to be using the Prophecy Potion to See into the future," she said in her wispy tone of voice. "We'll be working in groups of three and trying to see if any of you can jump a vision."

Quatre immediately got with his brothers, Dorothy joining Ron and Seamus, right next to them.

"This should be easy," Harry laughed. "Let's do what we've been doing for the past couple of months."

Heero went to get their potions. When he got back, they drank their potions at the same time.

"Wow," Heero said.

"That's a rush," Harry agreed.

Quatre was feeling pleasantly warm. "This feels nice."

"Yeah," his brothers agreed.

Quatre was the one to pick up the locket, sitting between them.

_"I love you," a man said to his wife, putting the locket around her neck._

Harry grabbed Quatre's hand, and the scene changed.

_Professor Trelawny gazed at the triplets, her eyes wide. A great black ball of energy emanated from the center of their circle._

Heero held Quatre's hand, but the scene held on.

_The energy ball grew, expanding until it filled the circle, covering it with darkness._

_"What's happening?" Lavender cried out, as a gust of wind blew threw the room. None of the windows were open._

In the back of his mind, Quatre realized he could hear her with his ears as well as in his mind. Quatre squeezed his brothers' hands, and the scene changed, again.

_"We have to do this," Heero said, gravely. He put a locket around Dorothy's neck and kissed her temple._

_"I know." She was crying. She enveloped Quatre and his brothers in a group hug. She stood back. "Well, let me see you." She brushed Harry's bangs out of his eyes. "My boys. So brave." Dorothy turned to Quatre. "Now, you take care of them, you hear. If you die, I won't speak to you, again." She laughed through her tears._

_"Of course," Quatre said, in a choked voice._

_"I suppose we should get started, then," Dorothy said._

Quatre didn't get to see what they were going to do because he was thrust out of the vision.

And into chaos.

"My magic! My magic!" Parvati shrieked. "My magic's gone!"

Selune


	52. Joining Visions

Disclaimer: I do not own any things Harry Potter—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to the wonderful J. K. Rowling and whomever else she decides. I do not own anything Gundam Wing—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to (I think) Bandai and Sunrise.

Spoilers: This fic contains spoilers for books 1-5 of Harry Potter and all of the episodes of Gundam Wing. This fic does not include Endless Waltz.

Rating: R

Pairings: 2x1, Relena/OFC, OMCx4, OMC/Harry

Category: crossover, fantasy, general, drama

Author: Selune

Author's site:  Two years ago, the One Year War ended. At this time, the five heroes—the Gundam pilots—disappeared from the Muggle world. Three of them—pilots 02, 03, and 05—reappeared shortly after in the Wizarding world, as students at Hogwarts School of Witchraft and Wizardry. Now, twenty months after the fact, Heero Yuy and Quatre Winner are coming to Hogwarts, and they're bringing all of their secrets with them. The world—especially one Harry Potter—will never be the same.

Peace, Love, and Family:

The Story of the Vanuli Three

Chapter 51: Joining Visions

It's gone, Lavender mumbled, sitting in the corner. I can't feel it anymore.

Harry didn't know what Lavender and everybody else--even Dorothy--were talking about. If anything, his magic had gotten stronger, more vibrant. Almost as if he had theirs.

Oh.

Harry turned to his brothers, who were staring at the others. What just happened?

Quatre said. I think--We did it! Heero looked like he wanted to float away. Harry put a hand on Heero's shoulder--just in case.

Are we--are we sure? Harry asked. Was this really what happened when they did this? And--more importantly--could they do it again? On command?

I Saw three visions. Quatre nervously twirled his wand. Two of them weren't mine.

Heero nodded. For me, too.

Harry sighed. He'd Seen it, too. What should-- Dorothy cried out as Seamus shot across the room, heading for the trapdoor. Lock us in!What? Why? Harry yelled. He reached for his wand, but Quatre was quicker.

Quatre yelled the Vanuli word for and a huge padlock appeared on the trapdoor.

Ignoring it, Seamus still ran for the door. He hit a barrier and was thrown back into the other students.

We have to keep everybody in here until you fix this, Dorothy said, right beside Harry.

Harry jumped--when did she get there?--and turned to face her. Fix it? How?We need to give everybody back their magic and possibly _Obliviate_ them, Quatre said. We can't risk it getting back to J and Voldemort that we can join visions. Heero agreed. It would completely ruin the surprise. He grinned.

Harry was forced to join him, smiling like a loon.

This, of course, means that we have to give up this extra power. Quatre said.

Ron made his way over to Harry. What's going on? It's just that everybody's freaked out, and Trelawny's gibbering like a crazy person, and you guys seem to be so calm.

There was really no point in telling him. After all, he was just going to forget it in a few minutes. Harry told him, anyway--Ron was his best friend, and Harry couldn't refuse him anything. We joined a vision.

Ron did a double take. Harry almost fell over laughing, but he was able to restrain himself. Harry thought he might be becoming hysterical.

But that's impossible!Not, apparently, for Vanuli triplets, Harry said.

Ron whispered. The others might hear you. They could--oh. You're going to _Obliviate _us, aren't you?

No one could accuse Ron of being stupid. Well, they could--and did--but they were wrong. Bloody Hell, Harry, Ron swore. He waffled for a moment. Oh, all right. I won't complain. I know you can't let it get out how powerful you are.

Amazing. Two examples of Ron's intelligence in one day.

Dorothy said, taking charge again. Now, we need to get the magic back to all of these people. I suggest you give me mine, _Stupefy_ everyone else, and get it all sorted from there.

Harry protested. But that's not-- Quatre agreed.

I'm fine with that, Heero said.

Harry threw up his hands, knowing he was beaten. Fine. At least there''s cushions everywhere.

It took the triplets a few minutes to figure out who had Dorothy's magic, eventually finding that they all had equal amounts of it. They decided to take turns giving it back.

Harry yelled, hitting Trelawny in the back of the head. The students tried to run, but they had nowhere to go. _Stupefy! Stupefy_! Lavender and Parvati wilted like flowers

In a matter of moments, everybody--except Ron and the Vanuli--was _Stupefied_. Harry heard Heero cast a Lasting Charm on the room. It would only extend the spell for an hour or so, but they could always cast it again--Trelawny had a planning period after their class, so no students would be coming up.

Quatre was finished with Dorothy, so Harry went to her. It was difficult finding her magic again, but he did. The magic screamed --literally. When he touched it with his mind, he got flashes of his memories with her.

Harry carefully funneled that magic--and only that magic--into a Fury Orb. He sent it to Dorothy, and her body absorbed it.

After Harry was done, Heero did the same thing. They did the same thing for their peers. Then, it was time for the humans to be woken up and _Obliviated_.

PLF

Lunchtime found Duo, Wufei, and Trowa in the library. Duo had an essay due in Potions that afternoon that he wanted to correct, and Trowa had one due in Herbology tomorrow. Wufei was, as usual, caught up.

That wasn't why they were there, though. By now, it was common knowledge that all of the Gryffindors except Granger skipped out on Double Transfigurations to stay up there with that old quack in the Divinations Tower. It was also common knowledge that none of them could remember what they did for the entirety of the three and a half hours they spent there.

I bet it was Longbottom, Trowa said, quietly. He's clumsier than a drunk baby deer. I bet he dropped something in his Prophecy Potion that made it explode. He shuddered.

Duo patted Trowa on the shoulder. Trowa had to work with Longbottom in Potions, once. He never quite got over it.

I bet it was Heero and Potter, Wufei said. Quatre and Catalonia, too, probably.Why do you say that? Duo asked, interested.

Surprisingly, Wufei could be quite the gossip. He, Brown, and the Gryffindor Patil twin were in competition for the title of Hogwart's Biggest Gossip, even though most people would never suspect it from Wufei. He was smart about his gossiping--and as sneaky as a Slytherin.

Yeah. I heard Padma telling Su that Patil and Brown overheard Heero and Potter talking about extra tutoring' that they're getting from Professor Lupin, only it's not tutoring in Defense. They're trying to jump visions."

But doesn't that mean-- Trowa began.

That they need three people? Wufei finished. Yes. My guess is Catalonia or Quatre--especially Quatre. The three of them are brothers--Heero and Potter are twins--so their powers are more closely linked than Catalonia''s. Catalonia's a Warrior Vanuli, and they're Nobles. . .

Duo let his mind wander as Wufei prattled on. For the information he had, Wufei had a very plausible theory. Only problem was, he was completely wrong. Heero, Harry, and Quatre were _triplets_, not twins, and they'd mastered jumping visions months ago. Of course, Wufei was rarely wrong, so that could only mean--

Duo jumped from his seat. I--need a book, Duo said at Trowa's and Wufei's weird looks. For my essay. He headed towards the Potions section, to think.

_This could only mean that they managed to join a vision, _Duo thought_. But why would they Obliviate everyone? _Duo was only too familiar with the strength of the Vanuli's Obliviates. He still couldn't remember an apparently amazing lap dance._ Why wouldn't they want everyone to know? The only reason I can think of is-- _

Duo slid to the floor. _It must have been powerful. _He put his head in his hands. _I can't believe Heero would--How can Quatre--How can _Dorothy _let them do this? They'll be vulnerable for at least five minutes, long enough for J and You-Know-Who to kill them, deliver their bodies--in pieces--back to Hogwarts, and sit down for tea and cookies afterward! They're idiots, and they're going to die._

Duo felt himself start to hyperventilate and forced himself to take deep breaths. When he was calm, he walked back over to that table.

Didn't find it? Wufei asked.

What? Oh--I decided against using it, Duo said. I wouldn''t want my paper to be as long as Granger's--Snape might take off points out of pure spite.

Wufei laughed, but Trowa only smiled. Wufei had an unfriendly competition going on with Granger--at least, to Wufei, they were. Granger never seemed to bother much with Wufei. If Duo didn't know better (and really, he didn't), he would swear that Wufei had a crush on the girl. Too bad she was dating Weasley.

So what were you saying about Heero before I left? Duo asked. Maybe Wufei had some more insights.

Wufei and Trowa groaned.

I can't help it if I'm slightly interested in what Heero does, Duo protested.

Trowa drawled.

Yes. Slightly, Duo said.

Trowa just shook his head and looked down at his book.

PLF

"The packages are on their way, my Lords," Gamma-14 said, bowing low to J and Voldemort.

J and Voldemort sat on thrones in the middle of a big banquet hall in an enormous house just outside of London. J thought the thrones were a bit much, but as Voldemort was—currently—the senior partner in this little enterprise, J would allow him this luxury.

Soon, though, they would be equals again, and with J's extra years of living experience, he would have seniority.

Dr. J felt Voldemort's eyes on him, and he turned to meet them.

"What, exactly, do you plan for the girl to do?" Voldemort asked.

"Omega-2 will 'out' the triplets, so to speak," Dr. J said. "She will cause a scene in a public place that makes sure everybody knows that Quatre and Heero are terrorists and that the three of them are triplets. If she lets out that they're working with werewolves and vampires, so much the better."

"And what will this accomplish?" Voldemort said.

"The public has turned their backs on Harry before. I'm hoping that, in light of these unsavory behaviors, the triplets will once again be out of favor, thus causing them pain. My boys are emotional, and this may cause them to do something stupid."

"Like rush off to save the day, with us ready and waiting for them?" Voldemort smiled, and it was a hideous sight.

J just nodded.

PLF

Dr. J sighed as he sank into his chair, glad to be back at his own base. Now, he could spend his time on important matters, like trying to become Voldemort's equal, again.

Right on time, Beta-6 knocked on the door, and J bade him to enter.

"My lord, you wished to see me?" Heero Yuy II kept his head bowed, his eyes averted.

"What did I tell you to call me in private?" J said. "And look at me. That gets annoying."

"Yes, Wielder." Beta-6 looked up, and J met his brilliant blue eyes.

"Good." J ruffled around in his filing cabinet, easily finding the folder he was looking for. "I trust you've familiarized yourself with the mission's objectives."

Beta-6 nodded. Of course, he had. He was J's best weapon, now that Omega-12-c had defected. J thought wistfully of the youngest Heero Yuy. For a few, short years, he had truly been a perfect weapon.

"Alphas-1 and -3 will accompany me to Hogwarts on the fourteenth, where we will attempt to seize Omega-12-c, alias Heero Yuy III, alias Imela LeFey. Barring that, I am to extract a vial-full of blood from said target and bring it back to you."

J supposed a smile—it wouldn't do to scare Beta-6. "Do you know why I need the blood?"

"I have no need to know, unless you wish it, Wielder." A perfect answer.

"Good. You are dismissed."

Beta-6 nodded and marched from the room.

J turned his attention back to a more immediate matter—Omega-2 and her reconditioning. After Omega-12-c defected and Omega-1 left for Hogwarts, J attempted to recondition (i.e. brainwash) his remaining weapons into accepting him more fully, thus making them accept his alliance with Voldemort. It was not successful on many of them, and they had to be killed. The ones who survived were outfitted with backup conditioning, in case they ever fell into the hands of an enemy who knew ho to reverse the conditioning (like Omega-12-c). A code phrase—heard or read—would bring all of J's training back to the forefront of their minds.

J planned on using this to bring Kayla back to him and using her to hurt the Omega-12s.

PLF

"Heero, wait up!" Duo called as Potions let out.

Heero was nearing the door with his family, but he stopped at Duo's words.

"Can I talk to you?" Duo grabbed Heero's arm, before hastily letting go when he flinched.

Heero nodded. "Yes. I assume you want privacy." Duo nodded, and Heero turned to Dorothy. "You guys can go on. I'll make Duo take me back to the Tower."

Dorothy frowned but nodded. "All right. Call for me if you need me, and I'll be right there." She rounded on Duo. "And you—if you hurt him, I'll have your balls in a jar above my bed."

Duo gulped. He had no doubt as to the sincerity of her words. "I'll be good."

They left, leaving Duo and Heero alone in the classroom. Even Snape was gone.

"Is this private enough, or should we go somewhere else?" Heero asked, looking up at Duo.

Duo met Heero's eyes, and his breath caught in his throat. Heero was beautiful. "This, uh, should be fine," Duo said a moment later. He cast a Privacy Spell around them, so nobody could hear their conversation. Those were easily broken, though, so he layered a Garble Charm on top of that. Even if someone managed to break through the first spell, he wouldn't be able to understand what they were saying. On top of that, Duo decided to speak in Japanese.

"I know what you're doing," Duo said.

Heero looked surprised at the choice of language, but quickly caught himself. "What are you talking about?"

"Earlier today, you, Potter, and Quatre joined a vision. Something powerful must have happened, and now you're planning to use it against J and You-Know-Who. Wufei figured it out—well, not quite. He thought you jumped a vision, and the Dark Lord never even entered his mind."

Heero's face grew grayer and grayer as Duo talked. "I don't know what you're talking about."

Duo grabbed both of Heero's lower arms, reveling in Heero's touch. Even though he had no right to. "I know you do. I just—I wanted to talk to you about it, to see if your idea is as stupid as the one I came up with."

Heero drew his arms away from Duo and pinched the bridge of his nose. "Duo," he said slowly, drawing out Duo's name. He sighed. "I really don't want to talk about this with you. You have—you have no right," He said with conviction—and a tiny bit of anger.

"I know I don't, " Duo admitted, "but I ca—I love you." Heero drew back further, shock plastered on his face. Duo had to get it off, somehow. "I know I don't say it a lot, and I _know_ I don't act it, but I do."

Heero's eyes were like ice. "Is that what this is about? A little concern, a few nice words, and _bam_, I'm back in your bed?"

Duo shook his head. "No. This—I'm worried about you." Duo caressed Heero's cheek. Heero didn't step away. "Of course, I miss you, but I've resigned myself to never getting you back."

'Then, what is this about?"

Duo dropped his hand. "I told you—your safety. If your plan is what I think it is—and I know how you think about battles, at the very least—then it's very stupid. I mean, how do you plan to protect yourselves?"

Heero didn't look surprised. "A minor detail. We'll figure it out, later."

"You only have a month!" Duo was appalled at Heero's continued lack of concern for his own safety, but Duo knew how to make him care. "Think of your brothers. You would never be able to forgive yourself if something happened to them."

"As long as I am alive, my brothers cannot die," Heero said. "We share a soul; we are connected on a level that transcends death. As long as one of us lives, the other two will return from death, unless our bodies are destroyed beyond repair. It is the reason that Harry survived the Killing Curse. It is the reason that I have come back from death's grip seventeen times. Nothing can kill us, unless it hits us all at once."

Duo was shocked—how could this be true? He shook his head. "And J knows this."

Heero blinked. "Well, yes, I suppose."

"Don't you think he'll use that to his advantage and have something waiting for you?"

"Not if we surprised him," Heero said. "Harry's always waited for Voldemort to come after him. This time, we're going after them.

"Besides," Heero continued, "we'll be Fused by then. A few piddling spells thrown by a couple of Dark Lords won't do anything against our natural defenses."

"You'll be Fused?" Duo hated the word. Foul, vial thing. It was the only thing holding Duo back from gathering Heero in his arms and smothering him in kisses. That, and Heero might actually slap him for it.

"Yes. We decided earlier. It'll give us a much needed power boost."

Duo closed his eyes. "I still think it's a bad plan."

"What would you rather me do, Duo? Run? Flee? It's the only plan we've got! There _is _nothing else to do!"

Duo got in Heero's face. "Of _course,_ I want you to run away! There are two madmen out for your blood, and. They. Will. Kill. You! I want you to flee back to Haven, where they can never get you! I would rather you Fuse with and fuck your brothers for the next 500 years than see you go against J and You-Know-Who!"

"And I would rather fight and die than run away and leave you at their mercy!" Heero screamed. "I love you, you bastard, and I'll not leave you here to be killed by them!" Heero gasped, bringing his hand up to his mouth. He turned to leave the room, but Duo caught him by the waist.

"Let me go," Heero said.

Duo ignored him. "You're doing this for me?" he asked.

"I don't want to talk about it. Let me go." Heero didn't struggle against Duo.

"Just tell me. Please."

Heero shook his head. "No. Yes. I don't know. When I think of them surviving, all I can think of is you dying.

"It doesn't matter, anyway. Voldemort is Vanuli. Not even Haven is safe anymore."

Heero tried to break free, and Duo let him. Before, Duo never would have been able to hold Heero, if he didn't want to be held. So much had changed since the war.

Heero walked away, but Duo grabbed his hand, loose enough that Heero could break free, if he wanted. "Please, think of another way." He drew his body flush against Heero's. "Please." Heero lay his head on Duo's chest, and Duo's breath hitched.

"This is the best way." He looked up at Duo. "The only way."

Impulsively, Duo leaned down and kissed Heero. Amazingly, Heero kissed back, bringing his arms around Duo's neck. Duo put his hands on Heero's waist.

After a few minutes, Duo reluctantly pulled away.

"So," Heero said.

"So."

"I'll see you in class tomorrow." This time, Heero made it out the door.

Duo smiled. It faded as he remembered Dorothy's threat. "Wait!" he called out in English. "I have to walk you back, or Dorothy'll kill me!"

PLF

Kayla sat at the dinner table, eating her chicken and pretending not to listen to the conversations around her.

"So Lavender says that she doesn't remember anything," Hannah said to Susan.

"What do you think happened?" Megan Jones, their other roommate, asked.

"It had to be Potter," Ernie said. "It always is."

Susan shook her head. "I don't think so. At least, not just him."

"Yeah," Justin said, agreeing with his girlfriend. "Yuy, Winner, and Catalonia were in there, too."

"They give me the creeps," Hannah said. "My aunt says that Vanuli are monsters. Did you know that they can change into whatever animal they want to? They don't even really look human!"

Kayla growled. How dare Hannah talk about Vanuli! Heero and Daemon were Vanuli, but they were her brothers! "I suggest you shut it, before you say something you regret," she warned.

Hannah scoffed, but her eyes were afraid. All the girls had learned to be wary of Kayla. "Why do you care?"

"I've loved exactly eleven people in my entire life. Nine of them are dead. Heero and Daemon are the other two. Talk about Potter, Winner, and Catalonia if you want, but I won't like it if you talk about them."

"Okay," Hannah said, and she changed the subject.

Kayla tuned them out, patently ignoring Ernie's, "If you love them so much, how come you never hang out with them?" Well, she didn't punch him in the face for it, but she far from ignored it.

Why had she defended Heero and Daemon? Sure, they broke her conditioning, but it was like they forgot her afterwards. She's been at Hogwarts for weeks, and neither of them had said a word to her, yet.

Kayla's thoughts were interrupted when a large, tawny owl swooped down and landed on her shoulder, an envelope in its beak. Another owl dropped a small package in her lap.

_Who would be sending me mail? I never get mail. Especially not at six o'clock at night!_

She decided to open the envelope first. Maybe it explained what was in the package.

She read the letter and felt something inside of her change. She smirked. Omega-2 was back.

Selune


	53. Pensive Memories

Disclaimer: I do not own any things Harry Potter—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to the wonderful J. K. Rowling and whomever else she decides. I do not own anything Gundam Wing—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to (I think) Bandai and Sunrise.

Spoilers: This fic contains spoilers for books 1-5 of Harry Potter and all of the episodes of Gundam Wing. This fic does not include Endless Waltz.

Rating: NC17

Pairings: 2x1, Relena/OFC, OMCx4, OMC/Harry

Category: crossover, fantasy, general, drama

Author: Selune

Author's site: Two years ago, the One Year War ended. At this time, the five heroes—the Gundam pilots—disappeared from the Muggle world. Three of them—pilots 02, 03, and 05—reappeared shortly after in the Wizarding world, as students at Hogwarts School of Witchraft and Wizardry. Now, twenty months after the fact, Heero Yuy and Quatre Winner are coming to Hogwarts, and they're bringing all of their secrets with them. The world—especially one Harry Potter—will never be the same.

Peace, Love, and Family:

The Story of the Vanuli Three

Chapter 52: Pensive Memories

Heero sat at the dinner table, not eating, just staring at the seat where Kayla used to be. _She seems so lonely_, he thought. _I really need to spend some time with her. _He would talk to her tomorrow about joining him and his family on the next trip to Hogsmeade.

"You need to eat." Dorothy's voice broke through Heero's thoughts, and he turned to face her.

"Hmm?"

She sighed and put his fork in his hand. "Eat, or I'll feed you," she threatened.

Suitably chastised, Heero picked up his knife and began cutting his chicken. It wasn't his favorite—Heero was a red meat kind of person—but after years spent eating whatever he could get his hands on, he wasn't going to waste it.

"I need to get a book," Quatre said, standing up, "before our tutoring."

Heero nodded, but Dorothy jumped from her chair.

"Not alone, you're not."

Heero looked up just in time to see Quatre roll his eyes. Apparently, neither Dorothy nor Quatre realized that people might get suspicious if she started being overly protective of him, as well as Harry and Heero.

"Fine," Quatre said. "I'll see if Daemon will go with me. Is that okay?"

"Perfect." Dorothy smirked. "But if he says no, you come back here, and we'll all go together."

Quatre smiled. It was the fake grin of one long put upon. "Sure."

Dorothy sat back down and put her napkin in her lap. "Great."

Quatre swiftly made his way over to the Slytherin table. He put his arm around Daemon's neck and slid into his boyfriend's lap. "Hey, love," Quatre said, before Daemon could react. "Could you do me a favor? Walk with me back to Gryffindor Tower. It's just that the Warden over there is afraid I'll fall and break a nail or something, if I go alone." He smiled and batted his eyelashes at Daemon.

Quatre didn't know why he was acting so silly. Usually, Heero would be the one flirting with his boyfriend or asking people to play with him. But Heero didn't have a boyfriend, and he hadn't even mentioned games. And the full moon was on Monday. Harry tried to get Quatre to dance with him, earlier, though. Something light and fun.

The truth hit Quatre like an oncoming Hogwarts Express. They were starting to act like one another. It was the first step towards full Fusion. Soon, they would start to l—

No. Quatre wouldn't think of it. They would find a way out of it and live happily ever after with the loves of their lives. There would be a sunset, they would walk off into it, and that would be that. There would be no Fusion and no King Imalat.

"Quatre? Are you okay?" Daemon asked.

Quatre mentally shook his head and looked at his boyfriend. "Yes. I just felt a bit weird there for a moment. So, you coming?" He jumped off Daemon's lap and offered him a hand.

"Of course." Daemon took the proffered hand, and they walked out of the Great Hall. When they were in the hallway, Daemon stopped Quatre. "Why are we leaving, anyway?"

Quatre urged Daemon to move. "It looks like Heero and Duo are going to get back together." Heero had told them about the kiss as soon as Duo dropped him off at the Tower. "I just want to make sure that Duo doesn't hurt my little brother, again."

"Oh. Okay. I'm all for that."

They reached Gryffindor Tower, and Quatre ran up to get Duo's "present." Heero would kill Quatre if he knew that he was doing this.

PLF

Kayla sprinted back to her room, her package held securely under her arm. She checked to make sure there was no one in the room, before casting a secure Locking Charm on the door. A quick _Alohamora_ wouldn't break it, as it would many others.

Kayla carefully placed her burden on the bed and sat down beside it. _I wonder what's in it,_ she thought. _Dr. J said that it would help me with my mission._

She carefully opened the package and looked at what was inside. A Pensieve. She took it out and found two pieces of parchment underneath. On one was the incantation she would use to project the memories onto the wall. On the other was a note.

_In this Pensieve, is incriminating evidence to back up your claims. I trust you won't spill it._

The note wasn't signed, but Kayla knew it was from Dr. J.

She put the Pensieve back in the box, and crawled into bed. Tomorrow would be a long day, what with ruining her brothers' lives and all.

PLF

Duo relaxed in front of the fire in his favorite armchair. It was beneficial, being a seventh year. They got all of the good seats.

Despite learning about Heero's ridiculous plan to off the Dark Lords, it had been a good day. He'd gotten to see Heero, to touch him. To kiss him. Despite what he said earlier to Heero, Duo was determined to get Heero back.

He knew he'd messed up. Horrendously. But he had changed. He wasn't going to rush to judge, anymore. He would hear Heero out. And he would never, _ever_ call Heero those horrible names again.

"Duo Maxwell." A hand clamped on his shoulder. "Just the man I want to see."

Duo looked up to see Daemon and. . .Quatre. He sighed. "What do you want, Winner?"

Quatre sat on the arm of the chair. "Just to chat. And to give you a present." He was holding a bowl with a lid and runes on the side. It was vaguely familiar.

"I don't want it," Duo said.

Quatre smiled. It didn't reach his eyes. "Too bad. Now get up." He kicked Duo in the shin. "We're going down to your room."

Duo looked to Daemon. He was the reasonable one of the pair.

"You better do it," Daemon said. "It's about Heero, and Quat always gets a little pissy when it's about Heero."

Duo nodded and stood up. "I guess, I have no choice."

"Nope," Quatre chirped, following Duo down the steps.

They reached Duo's room. He had to kick out Zabini and Daphne (Trowa's ex), but soon, they were alone.

Duo turned to Daemon and Quatre. "So, what did you want to talk about?"

"We'll talk later. This," Quatre held up the bowl, "is a Pensieve." So _that's _where Duo recognized it from. "I'm sure you know what they do."

Duo nodded.

"I have a memory of Heero's treatment in here—his last. I want you to see it." Quatre had a look on his face that said, if Duo didn't look willingly, he would push his face down into the bowl and snap his wand.

Duo shrugged. "Okay." After all, how bad could it be? Heero was fine now, if a bit weak. Duo put his wand in the bowl and was thrust into the memory.

PLF

_Quatre sat on the hospital bed next to Heero. Heero was weak, fragile. He looked as if he had no muscle—just skin stretched over bone._

_"This is the last one," Heero said. Even his voice was a shadow of its former self. "One more treatment, and I'll have magic." He danced his fingers across Quatre's arm. It took a lot out of him; Quatre could tell. Heero doubled over, coughing. Quatre gave him a tissue to wipe his mouth off. It came back pink._

_"Don't," Quatre said, referring to the magic that Heero could barely do. "Not yet."_

_It hurt him to see his brother like this. Heero was the strong on of the two. During the war, Quatre looked up to Heero so much, as if he was the little brother, and Heero the older. Now, though, Heero was so weak._

No, _Quatre thought. _Heero is still strong, and he always will be. It's his body that's weak.

_"It's time," Heero said, and Quatre heard the door slam._

_Quatre nodded and kissed his brother on the forehead. "I'll be watching," he said, as much to warm Dr. Kafka as to comfort Heero._

_"I'll be fine!" Heero called out as Quatre left the sterile room, leaving his brother with one of the men responsible for his condition._

_"You always are," Quatre muttered._

_Dorothy squeezed his hand as he passed by, and the two of them, along with Maddy, Relena, and Tashpi, went to the window to watch. The blinds to the window were always up during Heero's treatments, so they could see what Kafka did._

_Dr. K made Heero drink three vials of a gold potion the thickness of honey. From the face Heero made, the similarities ended there. Kafka said a few charms—the glass was too thick for Quatre to hear the words—adn left the room._

_"That's it?" Quatre asked, angry and hopeful at the same time. "Why aren't you still in there, making sure he's okay?"_

_Kafka wiped his glasses on his shirt. "Any magical interference now could kill Mr. Yuy," he stated matter-of-factly. "I fear us being even this close may do him some harm."_

_A smart, witty, _brilliant _retort was on the tip of Quatre's tongue, but he was stopped by the screaming._

_"Ahhh!" Heero wailed._

_Quatre lunged for the door. "I'm coming, 'Ro!" he yelled, forgetting the doctor's words. His brother was hurting._

_Dorothy jumped on top of him, knocking him to the ground, just as his hand hit the doorknob. The door didn't open._

_"You can't go in!" she screamed. "You. Will. Kill. Him!"_

_Quatre breathed deeply, letting Dorothy's arms around his waist ground him. Heero would be okay. These treatments always hurt him, but ultimately, they made him better._

_"Okay," Quatre said. "You can get off of me, now."_

_Dorothy crawled off him, and he stood and went to the window. What he saw would stay with him the rest of his life._

_Normally, during one of his treatments, Heero puked out the Gundamium. This time, he was bleeding it out. Gundanium oozed from every orifice. His nose, his ears, even his pores. His eyes were completely silver, with no iris, pupil, or white showing._

_Heero screamed again. Quatre grabbed Dorothy's arms and wrapped them around his waist. She would make sure he didn't go to his brother and hurt him._

_He sank to the floor, bringing Dorothy with him. Hot tears sprang to his eyes. If only _they _could heal Heero, he wouldn't have to be going through this._

He's been through so much_, Quatre thought. Heero was, at heart, a gentle soul. Quatre had known that since their first meeting. For someone like Heero to have had to kill as many people as he had was horrible. It was like asking Bambi to set a forest fire, and telling him it was for the good of mankind._

_Heero's screaming stopped, and Quatre looked up. It had only been fifteen minutes. Usually, the treatments took half an hour or longer. Quatre looked to Kafka._

_"It should be over," K confirmed._

_Quatre shrugged off Dorothy and ran to Heero's bedside. He got a handkerchief off the side table and started wiping off Heero's face. It was covered in Gundanium._

_"Qua-re?" Heero asked, his voice scratchy._

_"Yes?" Quatre rested his hand on Heero's forehead._

_"'t hur-s."_

_"I know. Here comes Maddy with a pain potion. She'll make it better."_

_Maddy fed the potion into Heero's I.V. drip. Quatre wetted his cloth and began washing Heero's arms._

PLF

Duo stumbled coming out of the memory. "I—What—Why?"

Quatre got in Duo's face. "I just wanted to show you that, while you were slutting it up with those whores at Beauxbatons, Heero was dying. He wanted to _protect _you from his condition. I just thought you should know what he was really going through while you were so busy hating him."

"How did you know—"

"About Beauxbatons?" Quatre finished. "We kept a tail on you. I always knew where to find you, but Heero was afraid to talk to you. He thought you would hate him."

"I would never—" He _could _never hate Heero. He loved him!

"Maybe not, but you could hurt him, and you have," Quatre said. "I leave you with a warning: hurt my brother again and die. I will kill you slowly, and it will be much fun for me. Your death will make the deaths of those who inflicted my Heero with those wards look like a pleasant day at the beach."

Duo gulped. Why did he have to fall in love with the ones—one—with crazy families? Two threats in one day were quite enough, thank you very much.

Duo nodded, and Quatre swept out of the room, Daemon following after.

PLF

The next morning, before breakfast, Kayla felt a little trepidation. She'd never been the ringleader of a betrayal before. And, after all, Heero and Daemon _did _save her.

_Save you?_ she thought. _From what? All they did was take you farther away from the Maker, so he wouldn't take you back._

She strode into the Great Hall, a girl on a mission. Literally. She was early, so there was no food on the table, and practically no one was there. No matter. She could wait.

When the room was full, with almost every student accounted for—except for those few slackers who never came to breakfast—Kayla stood up. She climbed on top of the table and cleared her throat.

A few people quieted, but on the whole, people ignored her. Frustrated, she cast _Sonorous_ on herself and yelled, "Shut. Up!"

That got the students' attention, and Kayla smirked.

"I have information that you all need to know," she began. "Information, I believe, that even our esteemed headmaster doesn't know. Either that, or he's decided to keep it from you."

Surprisingly, none of the professors moved to stop her.

"Trowa Barton, Wufei Chang, Duo Maxwell, Quatre Winner, and Heero Yuy were Gundam pilots during the Muggle War." Kayla heard several gasps. "That's right. They were _terrorists._ Ruthless. I've no idea how many innocents they have killed, but I bet it numbers in the tens of thousands, at the very least." She turned and began pacing the length of the table, kicking food out of her way as she went. "I won't lie to you. I fought on their side, along with Daemon Rosencrantz, my half brother on our father's side. It's funny, you know. Rosencrantz and Guildenstern."

Many people were openly hostile now—either to Kayla or the people she'd named. Dorothy's face looked murderous.

"Of course, not all of us here fought on the winning side. Dorothy Catalonia sided with Oz and," _gasp,_ "_White Fang._ She is in fact Treize Kushrenada's cousin and a member of the Barton family."

Harry Potter stood up, eyes blazing. "Do you have any proof of these lies, or are you just slandering good people?"

She could tell by the way he stood that he knew every word was the truth.

"Why, _Harry_," she gushed, stopping, "you've reminded me of the best part! You." She turned to face the Head table and tapped her finger to her lips. "I think I'll start like Heero would. Yes, that would be nice.

"Once upon a time, on a place called L1, there lived a sad man. He was sad because his bestest friend in the whole universe, Heero Yuy I, a great pacifist, had just been murdered. He decided, along with four other sad men, who resided on Ls 2-5, that he would build a mecha. Tall as a building and made of the strongest metal known to man: Gundanium. Of course, he needed someone to pilot the Gundam, but he had time. Twenty years, in fact, before the Gundam would be ready.

"Of course, the man, whose name was Dr. J, couldn't let just anyone pilot his magnificent creation. He had to find the perfect pilot—the perfect weapon—to fly it. So he looked.

"J gathered dozens of people—men, women, and children. He even got Heero Yuy's son, Heero Jr., to join him. But none of them were right. Most were good; some were great; but none were perfect.

"So J decided to create his perfect weapon. He gathered his imperfect weapons and extracted DNA from them. He made new weapons, each set better than the last. I am one of those weapons. So are Daemon and Quatre and Heero. So is Harry Potter."

Harry surged out of his seat. "You will SHUT UP you stupid CUNT!"

Kayla felt a shockwave of magic roll off him, coming straight toward her. It hit her square in the mouth, and she couldn't part her lips, much less talk.

She thought something like this might happen. Kayla set the Pensieve down next to Hannah, along with two pieces of parchment. On one was the Projection Charm. On the other was one word.

_Please.  
_

Hannah nodded. She was afraid of the Vanuli, and Kayla would use that to her advantage.

Hannah put her wand over the Pensieve and said the spell. The memory was projected on the wall behind the Head table, big enough so that everybody could see. She cast _Sonorous_ on it.

_A young woman in a Muggle nurse's uniform cradled an infant in her arms. It was an illusion—she was actually the same age as the old man beside her, wearing scrubs and a doctor's coat._

_"You'll never get them," the woman, Morgan, sneered. "You may get Imela, but you'll never _touch_ Malal and little Nelat." The baby gurgled and Morgan cooed at him. "Yes, my little boy. My little two. You'll go to your father and step-mother and be just the happiest little baby."_

_J was angry. "The deal was that I got all the triplets."_

_"The _deal _was that you got all three of _my _babies. These aren't my babies. I don't own them—their fathers do. Why don't you take it up with Winner and Potter that you want their little boys?"_

_"I could just take the infants."_

_"Oh, I hope you try," Morgan said. "Doing so would break our contract and give me every reason to rip your heart out from your chest and use it in all manner of dark rituals."_

_"Fine. Give me Heero."_

_"I'll give you nothing. Bring out the father, and I'll give _Imela _to him. But first, I must give Nelat to his father." Morgan strode to the door but stopped just short of opening it. She looked down at her son. "You now I love you, don't you, little one? I will remember you always, and your Naiyama will come get you the day you turn sixteen. Then, you can leave this awful human world and come to live in Haven, where only the plants are non-Vanuli. I'll miss you." She kissed his forehead and plastered a smile on her face. She walked through the double doors, and J followed._

_"Are you the Potters?" she asked. They undoubtedly were. James looked exactly like Harry would in seventeen years._

_"Yes," Lily asked. She wrung her hands on her dress. "Is that our baby? Is that our little Harry?"_

_Morgan nodded and placed the baby in James's waiting arms. _

_J shook Lily's hand. "It's so good to see you again. The surrogate is resting. I know you wanted to meet her, but we feel it would be detrimental to the flow of things. Wait just a few moments, and Nurse Lavery will get you everything you need, as well as the adoption papers for Mrs. Potter."_

_Lily and James beamed at him, practically glowing. Little Harry gurgled._

PLF

The scene ended, and Harry ended the spell on Kayla.

"She loved me," he said. "She wasn't lying." Quatre and Heero patted him on the back, while Dorothy stood up to go "talk" to Kayla.

PLF

Kayla's mission was over. She knew what to do, now. She drew an athame from a pocket in her robe. Saying nothing, she plunged it into her heart.

She fell.

PLF

"Nott," Voldemort called out. Since Lucius went to Azkaban, Nott was the head Death Eater.

"Yes, my Lord?" Nott bowed and kissed the hem of Voldemort's robe.

"I need you to assemble a team," Voldemort said. "Use the best men. My partner has a plan to unnerve the triplets. I plan to help him out."

"What must I do, my Lord?"

"There is a pack of werewolves in the Forbidden Forest. You are going to attack them and kill their leader."

Selune


	54. Werewolves

Disclaimer: I do not own any things Harry Potter—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to the wonderful J. K. Rowling and whomever else she decides. I do not own anything Gundam Wing—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to (I think) Bandai and Sunrise.

Spoilers: This fic contains spoilers for books 1-5 of Harry Potter and all of the episodes of Gundam Wing. This fic does not include Endless Waltz.

Rating: R

Pairings: 2x1, Relena/OFC, OMCx4, OMC/Harry

Category: crossover, fantasy, general, drama

Author: Selune

Author's site:  Two years ago, the One Year War ended. At this time, the five heroes—the Gundam pilots—disappeared from the Muggle world. Three of them—pilots 02, 03, and 05—reappeared shortly after in the Wizarding world, as students at Hogwarts School of Witchraft and Wizardry. Now, twenty months after the fact, Heero Yuy and Quatre Winner are coming to Hogwarts, and they're bringing all of their secrets with them. The world—especially one Harry Potter—will never be the same.

Peace, Love, and Family:

The Story of the Vanuli Three

Chapter 53: Werewolves

February 10, AC 198

Monday

J's England Base

"Thank you," J said to his Death Eater spy. "You may leave."

Silverman bowed and quickly left.

Apparently, Voldemort had decided that J's efforts to unsettle the triplets were insufficient and had decided to do something about it himself. Which was exactly what J was expecting, and exactly what he wanted. _Why use my army, when I can use his?_

Plus, it was a perfect opportunity to retrieve Heero.

J pressed his intercom to the upper level living quarters. "Beta-6, report to my office to discuss the details of your mission."

PLF

Kayla was dead. It had been five days, and it was all Heero could think of at every meal. He looked over at the Hufflepuff table, as if to see her sitting there, as usual, ignoring the conversations of her peers.

Harry laid a hand on Heero's shoulder. "It's not your fault, 'Ro. You couldn't have known."

Heero nodded, but he didn't believe it. It _was_ his fault. He ignored her, and she went back to J. Maybe Heero never turned her from him in the first place.

"You can't think like that," Quatre said. Heero turned his head, sharply, and Quatre looked sheepish. "Sorry. I was peaking."

Heero sighed. "If I had been there for her—"

"Nothing different would have happened," Daemon said. He had taken to sitting with them since it happened, glaring, with Dorothy, at all who dared to approach with. It was getting tiresome—but then again, so was the alternating hero worship and loathing of those they helped or hurt during the war.

"Well, changing the subject," Harry said, with a a false brightness. Heero knew this was hard on him—people were lumping him in with the soldiers. He was guilty just by being related to them! Remarkably, very few people had mentioned Kayla's other announcement. "Dorothy, you said I could go see Balor on Friday."

Dorothy wiped her mouth and set her napkin in her lap. "I believe I said maybe."

"But it's Valentine's Day," Harry protested. "You have to let me go."

"I don't have to do anything." She switched to Vanulian. "In case you've forgotten, Dr. J just made a move a couple of days ago. As none of us were hurt in the process, I question his motive for the display and expect him or Voldemort to do something bigger in the next few days. If they do before Friday, and we all survive, I would be happy to accompany you to Haven, provided that Daemon will watch and protect Heero and Quatre while we are there."

"Fine," Harry snarled in English. He pushed back from the table. "I'll just go on to Double Divinations, then. Maybe I'll be able to See him there." He stalked away.

Heero sighed. Everything was so tense, now. The waiting for J's next move was almost unbearable. Most of Harry's friends had accused him of being dark. All but a handful had turned on him. It was no wonder Harry was acting a little bit pissy and wanting to see one of the only people outside of their circle who didn't think Harry was going to end up as the next Voldemort. Still, it was dangerous at Hogwarts, nowadays, and none of them could afford to be alone. "I'll go with him."

His eyes met Dorothy's. "Thank you," she said, and Heero ran from the table.

Heero hurried to catch up with Harry. When he was about halfway there, already out of the hall, hands grabbed him and pulled him into another corridor.

"Hey! What the—" The hands released Heero, and he turned, coming face to face with, "Duo."

"We need to talk," Duo said.

"Can't it wait? I need to catch up to Harry."

Duo caught Heero's hand. "Please?" he asked. "Potter's a big boy. I'm sure he'll be fine on his own for a few minutes. Besides, can't you use that telepathy thing to ask him how he is?"

Heero started. "How did you know about that?"

"Wufei told me. He looked it up when he found out that you and Harry were twins. He's just flabbergasted that you're triplets, instead."

"The miracles of modern science," Heero muttered. "So. You wanted to talk?"

Duo nodded and put his hands on Heero's upper arms. He looked into Heero's eyes. It was all very romantic. Heero had a sneaking suspicion that it was supposed to be. "I love you, Heero Yuy." Duo smiled. "You were right, the other day, about me wanted to get back together with you. I do. Desperately.

"I can't promise the future, but neither can you. I don't know how I'm going to feel years from now, but I do know how I feel now. I love you," Duo repeated. "I can't promise that I won't be an ass sometimes, but you have permission to slap me whenever I am. What I'm trying to say is, will you be my boyfriend again?"

Heero beamed. He would never have thought, at the beginning of the school year, that he would be here, with Duo saying such nice things. Maybe he should have been playing hard to get the entire time. He put his arms around Duo's neck and coaxed his head down. Their lips met in a mashing of teeth. Heero turned his Gift on, and let the feelings of pleasure drown them.

Heero pulled back, resting his forehead against Duo's. "Yes," he said. "Of course."

Clapping came from the main hallway, and Heero turned in Duo's arms to see Harry.

"Harry?" he asked. "Why are you here?"

"Quatre told me you were following me, so when I didn't see you after a few minutes, I got worried and doubled back," he explained. "I guess I shouldn't have bothered."

PLF

Later that night, Heero lay in his bed. They'd cleared it off, so he could be comfortable while controlling his puppies. After all, it was the full moon, and Heero needed a place to rest where he wouldn't disturb the others, in case they wanted to go to bed. Quatre had put up a Sound Dampening Charm, as usual, so he could scream and howl to his heart's content.

Heero was looking forward to dark. After what happened today, he needed the sensation of running he got when he had a tight reign on Roun and, through him, the rest of the pack.

Heero couldn't believe his luck. Duo wanted him back! They were a couple again. Now, if only Heero could keep him.

All thoughts but one fled as the sun went down and the moon rose. _Run._

PLF

Nott _Apparated _into Hogsmeade; Bellatrix, Crabbe, Goyle, and a dozen others not far behind him. It was well into the night, and all the shops were closed. Everyone was in his or her home, the shutters closed, as if that measure alone would ward off a Death Eater attack. Luckily for the residents, they were not the victims of tonight's mission.

Nott gave the signal, and the group moved as one into the Forbidden Forest. Due to some good intelligence—and a smart wereleopard with a nose for betrayal _and _money—they knew the approximate location of the wolves den. They wouldn't have to spend all night looking for it, so they would have more time to enjoy their work.

The Death Eaters were wearing an invention of the Dark Lord's new associate. Of course, J wasn't aware that Stedman Silverman was a double agent and had appropriated them upon his last visit. The invention—called an Unlocater—made the wearer invisible and scentless. It was about the size of five snitches packed tightly together and was worn attached to the chest, free of the cumbersome nature of Invisibility Cloaks. Of course, it did nothing to waylay tracking spells, and magical eyes and eyeglasses could see through the shield of invisibility.

"Awooo!" The sound penetrated through Nott's mind and chilled him. He pulled his cloak tighter around himself, and took off east, toward the sound.

PLF

Roun ran at the head of the pack, chasing the deer that would be their dinner. "Awooo!" he called out in elation, when he and Derrick attacked and felled the deer.

Roun took his share and trotted off to the side. As leader of the pack, he got the biggest and best portions.

As Roun bit into his food, he got the feeling that something was wrong. It was too quiet. Roun could hear the sounds of his pack feeding, and that was it. Even with his mostly human mind—Heero was getting better at this—his wolf ears should have picked up more than that.

Wait. There was a rustling sound coming from behind that tree over there.

Roun went to investigate, growling a warning to his pack. Lindsey and Aaron flanked him, backing him up, should he need it.

He sniffed the tree. It smelled faintly of human. There was a human in the Forbidden Forest on the night of the full moon? Lucky for them that Heero controlled the pack's more beastly urges, or they'd be dead meat.

Roun looked up and came eye to eye with. . .nothing.

Roun heard another rustle and growled, his tail flattening. He howled to his packmates, trying to warn them of impending danger.

Then, the hexes started, and Roun ran away.

PLF

Heero wasn't sure what to do. Invisible Death Eaters—or J's men, or _somebody—_were attacking his puppies, and he couldn't save them. Leaving this bed and losing focus on Roun could cause the wolves to lose their minds, thus destroying the only advantage they had—their intelligence. And everybody else was at dinner, so he couldn't get somebody else to rescue his puppies.

Who were headed straight for the school. The wolves were passing by Hagrid's hut now, being herded by several Death Eaters with spells that, oddly enough, only every hit Roun.

His eyes wide, Heero figured out what they were trying to do.

_No, _he thought. _They can't. They won't. They have children here, too._

The front door was spelled open, and the werewolves ran in. They were headed straight for the Great Hall.

_I can't let this happen!_

With great care to stay focussed on Roun, Heero teleported to the Great Hall. He sighed in relief. The wolves hadn't been let in, yet.

A Hufflepuff boy strode to the door. He put his hand on the door.

"Don't open that door!" Heero yelled. They body didn't hear and, opening it, the wolves were let in.

The screaming started from the Slytherin table, as the werewolves ran past them.

Heero searched, but he couldn't find Roun among the pack. His concentration was waning, and Heero could see the effects on the wolves. He doubled his focus and found Roun.

He was on the steps out front. The Death Eaters were hexing him with _Cruciatus_. Heero saw red. He teleported outside and grabbed Roun.

Without a spare thought for the Death Eaters, Heero teleported to the Room of Requirment. Hopefully, no one was in there, and it would become a hospital of sorts. Roun badly needed the care, but Heero didn't dare try to take Roun to the Hospital Wing. Werewolves were not the most liked creatures, especially on the full moon.

Heero gently lay Roun down and prowled in front of the wall three times. No door showed. Someone must be in there, then. Heero didn't care. He drew up all of his energy and laid his hands on the door. "Open," he commanded, and the door showed up.

Heero helped Roun up. Somewhere between the front steps and here, Roun had changed back to human form. The moon must have gone behind a cloud. Heero put his arm around Roun and maneuvered him into the room.

It was cozy, a bedroom. It wasn't exactly what they needed, but it would do.

"Heero?"

Heero looked to the voice. "Dean?" Dean was holding a mirror. There were screams coming from it. It was like Harry's mirror that Sirius gave him, Heero figured, and it was showing Dean the Great Hall. Either that, or it played Muggle movies. Heero was betting on the former.

"He's a werewolf, isn't he?" Dean asked, a tremor in his voice.

"Yes," Heero answered. "He needs help. Please, don't tell. They'll kill him. You know they will."

"I won't help you hide him," Dean said, going for the door. "He's a vicious animal, and—"

"And if he dies, so do a lot of other people."

Dean stopped. "What do you mean?"

"Those wolves in the Great Hall are his pack. He controls them. If he dies, no one controls them, and we'll have thirty blood-thirsty werewolves in the midst of a whole lot of children."

Dean backed away from the door. "What do you need me to do?"

PLF

"What's going on?" Harry asked Dorothy. "Why did Heero teleport in and out of here? Why are there werewolves in the school? And where is Heero?"

Dorothy rubbed the back of his head. "Heero's in the Room of Requirement, trying to save Roun. Death Eaters let them in. And he was trying to warn us."

The werewolves were just a bunch of naked people, now. They seemed confused and embarrassed. Dorothy could see Professor Lupin, bright red from head to toe. Harry took off his robe and went to hand it to Professor Lupin. Dorothy and the others followed.

"How did you get in here?" Harry asked. "Why aren't you in the Forbidden Forest?"

Professor Lupin took the offered robe and put it on. "Death Eaters attacked us. They were attacking—oh, Merlin, we have to get everyone out of here!"

"Remus, Remus, calm down! What's going on?" Harry said.

Professor Lupin opened his mouth to speak, but a howl came out.

Dorothy stepped between Lupin and her Niamos. "Stand back. He's shifting."

PLF

"We're losing him!" Heero screamed. He pressed down on Roun's chest, as Roun shifted back to wolf form. Heero was losing focus, and Roun was becoming more wolf-like as the seconds ticked by. The others would be even worse off, once Heero factored in Roun's pain and the effect it would have on his ability to control his pack.

"We need to get him to Pomfrey," Dean said from across the room.

Heero nodded. "You're right. Run and tell her I'm coming."

Dean ran out of the room without a look back.

"Okay, Roun, we can do this." Heero knew he only had about one teleport left before he wore himself out completely. The journey might kill Roun, but he would bleed out before Heero could them them to the Infirmary by foot. Heero had used his Flesh to heal most of Roun's wounds, but one refused to stay closed. Heero grabbed the whimpering wolf in his arms and teleported them to Madam Pomfrey.

Pomfrey bustled into the room. "What is—oh, my."

Heero looked down at the limp body in his arms. "Oh, no. No. No!"

Roun was gone, and with him, Heero's power over the wolves.

PLF

"Point me, Heero Yuy III," Beta-6 said, holding out his wand. It had been ridiculously easy to break into Hogwarts. He was the parent of a student, so none of the wards had stopped him. The bone golems were a bit of a challenge, but they were easily confused and disintegrated.

Now, Heero the elder had a job to do. He was taking his son out of here, if it was the last thing he did.

PLF

There was a scream as the werewolves shifted back to their wolf forms. Hermione looked to Ron, the full moon bright over the enchanted ceiling.

"They seem to have their with about them." She drew her wand, anyway. One never could be too safe while around dangerous creatures. "Do you think they all take Wolfsbane, like Professor Lupin?"

Ron shrugged. His wand was also drawn.

Dumbledore stood up from his seat at the teacher's table. "Everyone, remain calm. Prefects, if you would lead the other students back to the dorms, your professors and I can get this sorted out."

One of the werewolves growled, causing a second year near Hermione to gasp. Another joined the first werewolf, then another, and another, until all but Professor Lupin were united in a snarling mass.

The werewolf nearest Hermione tensed and leapt. It was coming right at her! Hermione tensed and shot off the Immobilizing Charm. It missed. The werewolf came down on her, and she collapsed under its weight.

PLF

Heero was still holding Roun's corpse when Dean finally made it to the Infirmary.

"Madam Pomfrey!" Dean yelled. "We've got a—oh." Dean looked to Heero. "You're already here."

"He's dead." Heero idly stroked Roun's fur. "All of my magic, and I couldn't save him."

Dean shifted. "But that means. . ."

Heero's eyes widened. In his grief, he had forgotten. "We have to get the the Great Hall. Now." Heero slid Roun's body to the floor and clambered tohis feet. He looked up, but Dean was already gone.

_What's the situation?_ Heero thought, focussing on his brothers. There was no answer. He ran.

PLF

_What's the situation?_ Harry heard Heero project, but he didn't answer. He had more important things to do, like getting that werewolf off Hermione. _Forgive me, Heero,_ he thought, readying his wand. "_Sectumsempra!_" he yelled, causing gashes to form all over the werewolf's body. "_Immobilus!_"

All around Harry, students fought the werewolves, former members of the D.A. being the most successful.

A scream ran out, and Harry saw Eloise Midgeon fall. Ernie MacMillan quickly _Stupefied_ the offending wolf and went to Eloise's aid.

Remus, the only werewolf who seemed to keep his mind, was fending off three werewolves from a group of first years in the corner near the antechamber. Harry spelled the door open, and the children ran in. Harry closed the door before any dark creature could follow, but he left it unlocked.

Professor Dumbledore, protected by Professors McGonagall and Flitwick, seemed to be preparing a complicated spell. Harry fought off another werewolf, Ron by his side, both protecting the fallen and bleeding Hermione.

Harry chose not to think about what that meant for his friend.

At the Head Table, Dumbledore loosed his spell, causing a shockwave of magic to rock the Great Hall. Harry stumbled and fell. When he got up, he looked around to find that all of the werewolves were human again.

"We have about three minutes," Dumbledore said, "before the spell wears off. I need for all of the werewolves to get into the antechamber. Carry any who are stunned. Quickly, now."

Professor Sprout escorted the first years out of the room, and the werewolves lined up to go inside. Hermione stood to go with them.

"Not you, Miss Granger," Dumbledore said from beside Harry. "You and the other injured are to report to Madam Pomfrey, immediately."

"But I've been bitten," Hermione protested. "I could hurt someone."

"The infection takes a month to take over," Quatre said. "You'll be fine for now."

Dumbledore clapped Harry on the back. "If you and your family would be so kind as to follow me to my office—"

"No." Dorothy stepped up, taking Dumbledore's hand off of Harry. "We have better things to do, now."

"What do you mean?" Harry asked.

"Heero," she said. "We have to go to Heero."

PLF

Heero hurried down the steps from the Hospital Wing, focussing on Remus. He was the only werewolf left under Heero's control, and he would be damned if he lost Remus, too!

Heero was so intent that he scarcely heard the whispered, "Heero" as he turned down the third floor corridor.

The voice seemed familiar, but Heero couldn't place it. He didn't stop, nor did he slow down. Anyone who wanted to talk to him could bloody well keep up.

"Heero, I order you to stop."

Heero froze, and in that moment, knew exactly who he was dealing with.

He turned around, and it was confirmed. "Father."

Selune


	55. I Hate You, I Love You

Disclaimer: I do not own any things Harry Potter—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to the wonderful J. K. Rowling and whomever else she decides. I do not own anything Gundam Wing—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to (I think) Bandai and Sunrise.

Spoilers: This fic contains spoilers for books 1-5 of Harry Potter and all of the episodes of Gundam Wing. This fic does not include Endless Waltz.

Rating: R

Pairings: 2x1, Relena/OFC, OMCx4, OMC/Harry

Category: crossover, fantasy, general, drama

Author: Selune

Author's site:  Two years ago, the One Year War ended. At this time, the five heroes—the Gundam pilots—disappeared from the Muggle world. Three of them—pilots 02, 03, and 05—reappeared shortly after in the Wizarding world, as students at Hogwarts School of Witchraft and Wizardry. Now, twenty months after the fact, Heero Yuy and Quatre Winner are coming to Hogwarts, and they're bringing all of their secrets with them. The world—especially one Harry Potter—will never be the same.

Peace, Love, and Family:

The Story of the Vanuli Three

Chapter 54: I Hate You, I Love You

Beta-6 smirked at Heero. "Aren't you happy to see me?"

"Of course!" Heero pasted a huge smile on his face. If he could only think of a way out of this. Like with Dorothy, Heero had to follow his father's direct orders—it was built into him, like his love of Bellarmees and his blue eyes. But his father didn't order him not to—

"I order you to not call or help—in any manner."

_Well, shit._

Beta-6 whispered a spell that Heero didn't quite catch. "Now, you can't teleport out, and no one can teleport in."

_Double shit._

"I order you to stay exactly where you are."

Beta-6 advanced on Heero. Heero struggled to run, to move, to do _something_, but he couldn't. He was stuck. Heero's father brought out a needle and three vials.

Heero's eyes went wide. "You can't," he said, horrified.

"I can," Beta-6 muttered. "Now, shut up."

But it wasn't an order, so Heero didn't have to comply. "Please, don't," Heero begged. "Whatever he's giving you, I can make it look like nothing." Beta-6 ignored him. "I'm your son! Don't do this to me!"

Loud stomping came from the steps, and Heero's spirits soared. If someone was coming, he was saved! His father wouldn't be able to get his blood to Turn J into a Vanuli, and Heero wouldn't be a traitor.

Beta-6 tensed at the sound, but he relaxed when someone whistled three sharp notes. 'That'll be Silverman and Thomas."

Heero's hopes sank. It was just back-up for Daddy Dearest. "I hope he dies," Heero spat. "Vanuli blood is like poison to a human, you know. It'll rot him from the inside—"

"Traitor," Beta-6 said, "I order you to shut up."

Heero's mouth snapped shut with an audible _click._

Beta-6 quickly found a vein and inserted the needle in the crook of Heero's elbow. Heero, not to be outdone, concentrated on his Gift while they remained touching. Nothing happened. Beta-6 filled up the vials and put them away in his robes.

Beta-6 held up an old floppy-disk. "Now, if you'd just touch the portkey." Heero didn't move, and Beta-6 rolled his eyes. "I _order _you to touch this p—"

"I order you to stay away from that portkey at all costs!"

PLF

Dorothy teleported as close as she could get to Heero and ran the rest of the way, until she came across two goons on the stairs. They were, obviously, J's men—they weren't quite so over-the-top as Voldemort's. She tried to pass them, but they blocked her way.

"I suggest that you let me pass," she said through gritted teeth.

The man on the left laughed. "Or you're gonna do what, little girl? Braid our hair?"

Dorothy smiled. Now was not the time for fun, but she couldn't help it if an opportunity presented itself. "No," she said in as sweet a voice as she could muster. "I'm going to do this."

She grabbed the wrist of the man on the right and used it to hurl him up the steps. The other man stopped laughing and went for his wand. Giggling, Dorothy used her Gift to vanish the bones in both of his hands. He looked up, his eyes comically wide.

Dorothy heard talking from the hall upstairs and decided to finish this. With a flick of her hand, she vanished the man's arm and leg bones. When he was just a torso squirming around on the floor, his limbs ruined, she punched him straight through the ribcage, grabbed his heart, and tore it from his chest.

For the other guy—who was knocked out from his fall—Dorothy vanished his skull. She made sure to step in his brains when she passed.

"Ew. Squishy."

Then, she heard what Heero's father was saying, and she yelled out.

PLF

Heero smirked at his father before scrambling away from the portkey.

"Sorry, Dad, but she outranks you."

"I order you to—"

"_Expelliarmus_!" Dorothy yelled. Beta-6 flew to the far wall, crashing against it. The portkey flew in the opposite direction.

Dorothy stalked to where Heero's father lay crumpled, murder in her eyes. She raised her hand, and Heero yelled out, "No! Don't kill him!"

She turned around. "It's for the best."

"Please," Heero begged for the second time that night. "He's my father."

Dorothy nodded. "For you, Niamo." She turned back to Beta-6, but he wasn't on the floor anymore. He came barreling passed her and dove for the portkey, almost touching Heero as he passed. He hit the floppy disk and disappeared.

Heero let out the breath he hadn't realized he was holding. Dorothy strode over to him and wrapped her arms around his thin frame. They sank to the floor, and she placed a chaste kiss on his forehead.

Heero heard screams coming from downstairs.

Dorothy said, "Someone must have found the bodies."

PLF

"Gentlemen, Miss Catalonia, please, have a seat." Albus gestured to the plush chairs decorating his office. He sat behind his desk and waited for the children to get settled. He had failed them—all of them—today. "I assume you know why you're here."

They nodded, murmuring their agreement. Miss Catalonia rubbed Mr. Yuy's shoulder and pulled him tighter to her. "You want to know how much we know about the attack."

"Precisely." Albus popped a lemon drop in his mouth, more as something to do than because he really wanted one. He offered them one, but they all declined.

"They're mine," Mr. Yuy spoke up, nestled between Miss Catalonia and Harry. "The werewolves, they belong to me; they bear my Mark. I brought them here."

Cries of contention broke out amongst the students.

"No, you—"

"You had nothing—"

"It's not your fault!" Harry yelled, holding his brother's chin in his hand. "Heero, you couldn't have known—"

"I brought dangerous, dark creatures around children and treated them like pets!" Mr. Yuy argued, tearing his face from Harry's grip.

"They were in the Forbidden Forest, far away from the school," Mr. Winner protested. "It wasn't until the Death Eaters attacked—oh!" He jumped up from the chair he was sharing with Mr. Rosencrantz. "They used this device to make themselves invisible. There's a double agent in J's camp. He stole it."

Albus was surprised that he mentioned J's cohort. They never had before. "Who is J?"

Mr. Rosencrantz rolled his eyes. "Come off it, old man. You know damn well who J is. He's the man who made us." He gestured to himself and the triplets.

"Ah. I must admit, I knew that Voldemort had recently acquired a partner, though I don't know much about him."

"J's a magicologist," Mr. Yuy said. "He combines science with magic. He's your typical evil genius. And now he has my blood."

Albus was alarmed. Voldemort was already a formidable enemy. If he became Vanuli, he would be close to unstoppable.

"Now, he'll become Vanuli, just like Voldemort," Mr. Yuy continued.

"You mean...?" Albus asked.

"Voldemort's been Vanuli since the Third Task," Harry put in. "You know, my blood and all."

_This is bad_, Albus thought, but all hope was not lost. After all, there was a prophecy that these boys would win. He would have to trust in it.

A look went through the children. Mr. Winner nodded, and Harry said, "We have a plan, though..."

PLF

The next morning after breakfast, Harry, Ron, and Heero made their way to the Hospital Wing. Harry and Ron were going to visit Hermione, and Heero was visiting Maxwell, who got scratched up pretty bad. Classes were canceled today, so Hermione would be glad that she wasn't missing lessons.

They got to the Infirmary and split up, Heero going over to where Barton and Chang were visiting Maxwell.

"Hey, Hermione," Harry said softly, mindful of the other patients. About twelve students got hurt in the attack last night. Amazingly, nobody was killed. Madam Pomfrey would be keeping Hermione and the others for a day or two, until their lycanthropy tests came back. Hopefully, they would all be negative. "How are you feeling?"

"Tired. I've been up all night, worrying," Hermione answered. Ron at on the bed next to her and held her hand. "I guess I don't have to anymore." She let out a half-chuckle, half-sob. "My preliminary tests came back." She took a deep breath. "They were positive. I'm a werewolf."

"Oh, Herm," Harry said, using the hated nickname. He sat on the other side and grabbed her right hand. "I have something to ask you, and I don't want you to think I'm doing this just because of this. This goes for you, too, Ron. I was wondering, well. . ."

"Just ask, Harry," Hermione said, her brown eyes warm. "It can't be that bad."

"All right." Harry screwed up his courage. "Will you be my sister? Will you let me Turn you into a Vanuli?"

Hermione started. "Harry," she breathed. "I don't know—I'll have to think about it."

Harry nodded and looked to Ron. "And you? Will you be my brother?"

Ron smiled. "Harry, we've been brothers since first year, but why not? Let's make it official."

PLF

Heero approached Duo's bed cautiously. They might be on good terms, but Trowa and Wufei were still hostile towards him.

_And why wouldn't they be? You've done nothing to make them change their minds about you._

Duo saw Heero first, as Wufei's and Trowa's backs were to him, and he smiled. "Hey, 'Ro," he said, causing his friends to turn around.

"Hello Duo. Wufei. Trowa." Heero nodded to them before turning his full attention back to Duo. He slid onto the bed beside Duo and pecked his boyfriend on the lips. It was like they'd never been apart. "How are you feeling?"

Duo's smile lit up his face. "I'm fantastic!"

"His preliminary tests came back negative," Wufei elaborated.

"That's great!" Heero gushed, a weight lifting off his shoulders. He didn't know what he would have done if Duo had been a werewolf. Duo certainly wouldn't take one of Heero's Marks; not after last night. Thankfully, Heero didn't have to think about it.

"Guys?" Duo said to Trowa and Wufei. "Can we be alone? I need to talk to Heero."

Trowa nodded and squeezed Duo on his uninjured shoulder. They left.

Duo looked at Heero. "How are you holding up?" he asked in Japanese.

"I'm fine," Heero insisted. He rubbed his hand over Duo's cheek. "I'm sorry about this."

Duo brought Heero down for a kiss. "'S not your fault," he said.

"Everyone's saying that."

"Everyone's right."

Heero looked at Duo skeptically. "Sure."

"So," Duo said, raising himself up to where he was nose to nose with Heero, "what happened to your puppies?"

Heero frowned. "Dumbledore let them 'escape' before the Aurors got here. They're probably deep in the Forbidden Forest by now. They'll never be found."

"Good," Duo said.

Heero smiled and kissed Duo again.

PLF

That evening, Harry and Dorothy were in the Gryffindor common room, calmly discussing Harry's Valentine's Day plans.

"I said no!" Dorothy screeched.

"You promised that you'd let me!" Harry snarled back. "You said I could see Balor."

The others in the common room looked on amusedly—some even going so far as to titter over their words—which served to fuel Harry's anger.

"I believe I said maybe," Dorothy said reasonably. "I've changed that to a 'no.' It's just too dangerous."

"You're a liar," Harry said, his eyes burning furiously. "You said if we were all okay, I could go." His voice dropped to a whisper.

"I can't take the risk of you getting hurt, or of Heero or Quatre getting hurt while I'm with you." She reached out to squeeze his shoulder, but he recoiled.

"Don't touch me," he said. "You have no problem letting Heero be alone with his boyfriend, who is in no shape to protect him, or for Quatre to be alone with Daemon. Why can't you just take me there? Balor won't let anything happen to me." Harry was disgruntled at the thought of having to be protected by his big, burly boyfriend, whose magic was nowhere near Harry's power, but he figured it might sway Dorothy. It looked like it might be working.

"No," she said at the last minute. She switched to Vanulian and the others around them lost interest. "I give Heero and Quatre some privacy while they're in the castle. My spiders watch them, and I know that they're safe. If they aren't, I can teleport to them in a snap and kill whoever or whatever is hurting them. I can't do that at Haven. I can't teleport into or out of Haven—I have to leave by the exits. My control of the spiders doesn't reach across dimensions. If I was at Haven, I wouldn't know if Heero and Quatre were okay, and if I was here, I wouldn't know about you."

Harry understood Dorothy's reasons and he sympathized. He really did. He just didn't care. He hadn't seen Balor in weeks, and he only had a little over a month until his Life Day and everything changed.

"I hate you," he said, more to hurt Dorothy than because he meant it. He stalked towards his dorm, already regretting his words.

He would just have to find some other way to see Balor.

PLF

Neville Longbottom was not a man of many talents. He was pudgy, clumsy, and absolutely horrid at Potions. He jealously guarded his lovers, and it was that jealousy that ruined, perhaps, the best thing to ever happen to Neville in his young life: his relationship with Harry Potter. Neville kicked himself every day for ruining things with Harry, especially when Harry started dating other people. Now that Harry was with that other Vanuli—Valor or something—Neville knew he would never have another chance. Harry was just too in love with his boyfriend.

That didn't mean, thought, that Neville could—or would—ignore a crying Harry.

After several minutes of Harry and Catalonia yelling at each other in the common room, Harry came stomping up the stairs. He didn't see Neville and flung himself onto Yuy's bed, sobbing for all he was worth.

Hesitantly, Neville made his way over to his ex-boyfriend. "Harry?"

"Go 'way," Harry muttered through his tears.

Neville sighed and sat down on the bed. It was dusty from disuse. His hand hovered over the small of Harry's back before clenching and coming to rest on his own thigh. "Do you—do you want to talk about it?"

"No," Harry croaked. "Yes." He turned over to face Neville. His eyes were rimmed with red, and his face was blotchy. He looked gorgeous, as always. "I told her I hated her. She told me I couldn't see him, and I told her I hated her."

"Who can't you see?" Neville asked. He almost moved to wipe Harry's fringe out of his eyes but stopped himself just in time. They weren't dating anymore, so he didn't have the right to touch Harry.

"Balor." Harry buried his face back in his pillow. "I haven't seen him in forever, and I really miss him, but I didn't mean what I said—I said such a _horrible_ thing to her—and now she's probably sad, and I still won't get to see him." Harry took a deep breath. "And you probably don't want to be hearing any of this."

Neville had to admit, it _was_ awkward, hearing the love of his life talk about the love of _his _life, but Neville would do it and not complain, as he did so many things.

"Shh, it's all right," Neville mumbled.

Harry sat up and leaned into Neville. Neville wrapped his arm around Harry and pulled him close. Neville had read—rather, he'd heard Hermione read—that Vanuli were a very tactile species. They craved the touch of their families during stressful times. Neville guessed that meant exes—ex-friends, ex-boyfriends, ex-lovers—would do in a pinch.

"I should probably apologize to Dorothy," Harry said softly.

"If you think so," Neville said neutrally. Privately, he thought the horrid girl got what she deserved.

"But not just yet," Harry said. "This is nice." Harry yawned and lay his head on Neville's shoulder.

It _was_ nice, and oh, so painful. Neville let it happen, though, because he knew Harry didn't get much sleep last night. After the attack and Yuy's attempted kidnapping, the Vanuli family had been up all night. They'd woken Neville up several times.

Of course, Neville would let Harry touch him, no matter how much sleep he had, anywhere he wanted to, any time he wanted to.

Harry's hair fell in his face, and this time, Neville did brush it back. "I'm still in love with you," he said, kissing Harry's forehead directly on his scar.

"I know," Harry said, sleepily.

Quietly, Neville's heart broke. Harry was finally over him.

PLF

Voldemort looked down at his partner-in-crime. J was covered in a hard shell, as all were during their Turning. Of course, Voldemort was never Turned. He was _born_ Vanuli, albeit, the second time around. He was stronger than J would be. But those bloody triplets were still stronger than him.

Nodding, Voldemort consented for his blood to be drawn. He would get stronger, and he would _destroy_ those children.

Selune


	56. Gilding Harry

Disclaimer: I do not own any things Harry Potter—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to the wonderful J. K. Rowling and whomever else she decides. I do not own anything Gundam Wing—the characters, setting, plot, everything belongs to (I think) Bandai and Sunrise.

Spoilers: This fic contains spoilers for books 1-5 of Harry Potter and all of the episodes of Gundam Wing. This fic does not include Endless Waltz.

Rating: R

Pairings: 2x1, Relena/OFC, OMCx4, OMC/Harry

Category: crossover, fantasy, general, drama

Author: Selune

Author's site: Two years ago, the One Year War ended. At this time, the five heroes—the Gundam pilots—disappeared from the Muggle world. Three of them—pilots 02, 03, and 05—reappeared shortly after in the Wizarding world, as students at Hogwarts School of Witchraft and Wizardry. Now, twenty months after the fact, Heero Yuy and Quatre Winner are coming to Hogwarts, and they're bringing all of their secrets with them. The world—especially one Harry Potter—will never be the same.

Peace, Love, and Family:

The Story of the Vanuli Three

Chapter 55: Gilding Harry

March 1, AC 198

Saturday

Gryffindor Tower

_Dorothy really should have expected this_, Harry thought, putting on his boots. It was three weeks since the attack, three weeks since Harry said those horrible words to Dorothy, and three weeks since she forgave him. Harry was still determined to see Balor, and that's exactly what he was going to do.

Dorothy was taking an unexpected nap, and Harry was going to sneak out, again. Of course, Dorothy was more unconscious than asleep, due to the _Claritaserum_ with which he'd laced her tea. She was going to be so angry with him, but that was later. Harry would deal with that then. Now was for Balor.

Harry looked in the mirror, primping his hair a little bit. It fell back into its usual messy waves, and Harry sighed. Like Heero, he couldn't do anything with it.

Satisfied—enough—with his appearance, Harry teleported to the entrance to Haven. One face-bending second later, and he was in the home of his ancestors. He smiled and walked up to the nearest familiar face. "Do you know where Balor is?"

Allegara grinned like a lunatic. "Slipped your warden, huh? You know, Malal and Imela did that, once. You should have seen Ismea's face once she found them. They were in a fairy club, you see, with Relena Peacecraft—"

"Allie," Harry interrupted. "Balor?"

She jumped. "Oh, yeah, your Highness. He's moping in his subfamily's room, I think."

Harry thanked her and took off running before she could get started on another tangent. A few minutes later, Harry was outside Balor's room. He touched his hand to the air in front of the frame and felt a vibration. The wards must have still been keyed to Harry's magical signature because it shimmered, and he was in.

Balor was, indeed, moping. His large frame lay on the bed, dwarfing it, even though Harry knew it could easily fit seven or eight people with room between them. He was looking at a picture album. Harry saw the cover and knew it was one of him.

A month ago, Harry had been frustrated at his lack of seeing Balor. He bought the pictures from Colin Creevey, made the album, and sent it to the drop-off point near Haven's entrance by way of Hedwig, all in the hopes that Balor would reciprocate the gift. He didn't. Apparently, Vanuli had not yet perfected the art of photography.

"Hey," Harry said, to get Balor's attention.

"I'm busy," Balor snapped.

Harry was startled before he realized—he hoped—that Balor must not have recognized his voice. "All right. If you're sure you'd rather look at a representation than see the real thing, I can always go see my sister. Allegara and I will have a _fantastic _time together," Harry teased.

Balor jumped up from the bed and twirled around. He blinked. "Your Highness?"

"Yes, your Grace," Harry said, moving to take Balor's hand. "Now, how about we get out of this dusty old room and find a place a bit more fun?" Harry touched the back of Balor's head and pulled him down for a kiss. Just before their lips met, Balor broke away.

"All r-right," Balor said. "Just let me get something first. I've been saving it for you. Don't look."

Harry smirked, but dutifully turned away. Balor's surprises were never that surprising. Harry's smirk widened at the thought of sex with his—very—talented boyfriend and whatever new toy he had.

PLF

"Ahh!" Lucy screamed, gripping Milliardo's hand tight. "Get away from me! Don't touch me!" But she didn't let go. In fact, she held on tighter, making Milliardo's hand turn red, then purple.

"Love, you're doing great," Milliardo said soothingly. His free hand rubbed circles on Lucy's neck, serving to further her anger.

"You're never touching me again!" Lucy yelled. "You want anymore kids, _you're_ having them!"

On top of the pain of childbirth was the worry that the baby was late. Two weeks may not seem like a lot of time, but for Vanuli births, even one day over the normal gestation period could mean dire consequences for the baby or mother. Add to that the fact that Lucy wasn't Vanuli yet—she got through the barrier by the Vanuli blood in the little on inside her—and her situation was very bad indeed.

"Mrs. Peacecraft," the Vanulian Healer said, striding in the room like she was somebody. "You're going to have to calm down. It's not good for the baby for you to be so stressed."

Lucy tried to calm down, but it hurt so much.

Relena and Tashpi stood to the other side of Lucy, and now Relena moved to take Lucy's free hand. She brought a damp cloth to Lucy's forehead, and Lucy forced herself to take deep breaths.

"Good, Mrs. Peacecraft," Vanity said. She looked at Lucy under the sheet, and a smile lit up her face. "It won't be long now." With that, Vanity went to check on another patient.

Lucy held on tighter to her husband.

PLF

Heero laughed and ran his hand down Duo's side. What Duo said wasn't all that funny, but Heero was just so happy to be with Duo, he laughed at practically everything. The full moon was in a week, but with only Remus to control, Heero's emotions weren't getting the better of him. His giddiness was all his own. And Duo's.

"Come here," Duo said, grabbing Heero and pulling him down for a kiss.

The last three weeks were bliss to Heero. Sure, there were five more werewolves in the world. Sure, the war was heating up, with bodies piling up by the truckload. And sure, he was acting more and more like his brothers everyday, a sure sign that Fusion was upon them. But Duo was with him, and Heero refused to ruin what would perhaps be his last days as an individual by worrying. Which was something Harry would do, and worrying in its own right.

Heero and Duo were taking their relationship slow, this time. They hadn't even had sex, yet. This time, unlike their first go 'round, it was Duo who was holding out. He didn't want this time to be like their second, when all they did was have sex with each other, never talking things through.

This time, they had a long talk. The day Duo got out of the Hospital Wing, in fact. Heero told Duo about his great embarrassment at being sick, and how he didn't want Duo to know because he was afraid Duo would pity him. He told Duo about leaving, how everything had happened so fast that there wasn't enough time to wake Duo up to tell him everything. He told Duo about his treatment, and how in the first few months he was barely alive, and when he was actually conscious, he was too weak to lift a pen and write. Quatre was too focussed on Heero to care about Duo's feelings. He told Duo that, afterwards, so much time had passed that he was just too scared to contact Duo. "Some Gryffindor I am," he told Duo.

Duo heard and listened and talked to Heero. He talked about what it was like to fall in love with Heero and to finally be able to make love to him. He talked about waking up the next morning to find Heero and Quatre gone. He talked about his feelings of betrayal when he figured out that they left together, and what they must have been up to. He talked about what it felt like to doubt that Heero had ever loved him, especially since he had never said the words. He talked about Beauxbatons and the first boy he slept with who didn't look like Heero, didn't feel like Heero, just plain _wasn't_ Heero. He talked about turning cold and building a wall around his heart. "I only let in Trowa and Wufei," he said, "and that's only because they were already there." He talked about seeing Heero again for the first time, and how he wanted to tear down his wall, scoop Heero in his arms, and never let go. He talked about his mistrust of Heero, and how he wanted to let go of it.

By the time they were finished talking, their throats were soar, and they were crying. But they felt better, and their new relationship was better because of it. They had no secrets—Duo even knew all of the Plan.

Heero sighed and nuzzled Duo's neck. Everything was so much better, now.

PLF

Quatre smiled and grabbed Daemon's hand. They were walking from the library with Hermione and Ron. Both couples had run into each other while doing research—Ron and Hermione on werewolves, and Daemon and Quatre on sharing visions. The triplets had only ever joined one vision, and Quatre was curious to see if it was a fluke.

People whispered as the four walked by, staring and gawking at the ex-terrorists and the new lycanthrope. Quatre tried to fight back the urge to go off on his peers—which was more like Harry than himself—or take out his wand and hex the lot of them—Heero's feelings if there ever were. Ron and Daemon looked like he felt. Ron's face matched his hair, and Daemon's free hand was clenched into a fist.

It was Hermione who finally responded. She book her books down on the nearest table in the common room and turned to glare at the other students. She singled out a brunette sixth year boy, whose name escaped Quatre. He was whispering particularly loudly. "Do you have something you'd like to say to me, Jeremiah?"

The boy looked up, startled. "N-no. Not really."

Hermione's eyes narrowed. "Good."

She turned and started to say something to Quatre about her research. Quatre didn't get to hear exactly what it was because Jeremiah decided he _did _have something to say to them. "Why do you hang around with those murderers, anyway?"

The group of four tensed and turned as one. It was Daemon who spoke up. "What. Did. You. Call. Us?"

Jeremiah stood up. He got in Daemon's face. "Mur-der-ers."

Daemon lunged, and Quatre leapt to grab him.

"Oh, who cares who she hangs out with?" The girl Jeremiah had been talking to said. "She's just another half-breed mongrel, anyway."

Quatre saw red. He stalked over to the girl and grabbed her chin in his hand, forcing her to look at him. "Now, you listen to me, Blondie, because I'm only going to say this once. You can say what you want about me and my family because we don't really care what your kind thinks of us, but you will not say one word about Hermione or her friends." He was shaking with anger. "She is a good person—better than you, I'd say—and she has done no wrong to anyone.

"I have. I am, as your friend said, a murderer. You'd do well to remember that, before you insult my friends." Quatre dropped the girl's chin and went back to his boyfriend.

Hermione was crying. "Th-thank you," she said, wringing her hands.

Quatre frowned. "It's what Harry would've done." He turned to Daemon. "I've got this urge to see my brothers. I'll go see if Harry's upstairs, then we can go interrupt Heero and Duo. Give me your things, and I'll put them up."

Daemon handed over his backpack to Quatre, who hefted it in his arms.

Quatre walked to his dorm room and was immediately suspicious upon entering. The curtains to Harry's bed were closed. They were never closed, except at night.

Quatre strode over to the bed and flung open the curtains. His suspicions rose when he saw Dorothy, seemingly taking a nap. Dorothy never slept in the daytime. Hell, she barely slept at night! The better to watch her Niamos, she always said.

Quatre saw the glass tipped over on the nightstand. Tea. Quatre put his fingers in the spilled liquid and put them to his nose. Definitely not tea.

That's when Quatre remembered—Harry had been with Dorothy! He ran from the room, never noticing the folded sheet of parchment laying on the bed.

Quatre ran down the stairs and grabbed Daemon. "Harry's gone," he whispered, frantic.

PLF

_Harry's gone!_

Heero jerked his head up from Duo's stomach, where he was dozing.

"Wha'?" he asked, sleepily. _Quatre?_

Quatre's panicked voice came into his mind. _Harry's missing! Dorothy's drugged, and Harry's not there, and who could have taken him?_

_Quat. Quat! Slow down, _Heero ordered. He felt Quatre take a deep breath. _Now, tell me what's happened._

_Dorothy has been drugged with something. I'm not sure what. Harry was supposed to be with her, but he's not. I think someone's taken him._

Heero felt the panic bubble in his throat, and he fought it down. _Let's think about this rationally. Why don't we just ask Harry where he is?_

_Yeah. Okay. I'll ask._

Heero waited for a few minutes. _What'd he say?_

_He's not answering. Let's try together._

Heero nodded before realizing that Quatre couldn't see him. _All right. On three. One, two—_

_Harry was covered in gold. Balor's eyes widened in terror as the screaming started. Someone grabbed him from behind, and he knew no more._

"Oh, Mother."

"Wha' is 't 'Ro?" Duo groaned.

"Haven," Heero said. "They're attacking Haven."

PLF

Nott grumbled as he led his group to the barrier. He'd just come out of his shell yesterday, and already he was forced back to work. But one of the Dark Lord's spies had seen the Potter boy go into the Forbidden Forest all by his lonesome, and he had decided that today was the day to strike. The Dark Lord and Dr. J now had 300 Vanuli soldiers between them, courtesy of pilot 01 and the Boy-Who-Lived.

Their strike would be efficient, effective, and completely surprising.

The other units' orders were to capture as many young nobles as possible and get out of there before they were caught. Nott's orders were to catch Potter and whoever was with him.

Nott led his unit passed the screaming masses in the vaunted city. This would be fun.

PLF

Harry sighed and tried to sneak a peek at what Balor had in his hand, but every time he looked, Balor would move it behind his back or over his head or anywhere that Harry couldn't see. His curiosity was killing him!

"Okay, we're here now," Harry said after they both stepped through the barrier to "their" spot. There were other couples hanging around, but not many. "Showmeshowmeshowme."

"In a minute, my amadaya," Balor murmured. "I want this to be perfect."

Balor led Harry to a clearing in the trees and made him sit on a fallen log. He knelt in front of Harry and brought the small black box into sight.

"Nelat." He took Harry's hand. "Harry. These past two months have been heaven for me. Even though I've not been able to see you much, loving you and knowing that you love me have made me happier than I've ever been. I know that you are to Fuse with your brothers on the fifteenth, but I was hoping that you would consent to, I mean," Balor was flustered. He took a deep breath and began again. "Harry Potter, will you marry me?"

He opened the box, and Harry was blinded by a gold light. He felt something settle on his skin and he looked at it. He was covered in gold dust.

Harry took a deep breath and turned back to Balor. He didn't know the Plan. Harry would tell him now, then see if Balor still wanted to marry him.

"Balor, I—"

Balor's eyes grew wide as he looked at something behind Harry.

Harry didn't have time to turn around as someone grabbed him and hit his head. He fell, unconscious, into the mystery person's arms.

PLF

"Oh, Mother," Quatre said. "_What do we do?_" he asked. Daemon put a hand on his shoulder, and he forced himself to calm down.

"_Okay, here's what we're going to do,_" Quatre said aloud and to Heero. "_Daemon, go wake up Dorothy; have her meet us at the front door. Teleporting to the barrier may be a bad idea because we don't know how many soldiers are guarding it._"

Daemon nodded and bounded up the stairs, taking them two at a time.

_Heero?_ Quatre asked, to get Heero's attention away from his welling panic. _Teleport to the front door. If Dorothy and Daemon aren't there in three minutes, we'll fly on to the barrier._

HaiHeero thought, reverting to his native tongue.

Quatre nodded, avoiding the worried looks of those around him—especially Ron and Hermione—and teleported to the meeting point.

PLF

Daemon ran into the room and began furiously shaking Dorothy.

"Catalonia, wake up!" he yelled. "Ismea, your Niamo needs you!" It didn't work.

If Daemon knew what she'd been given, he was sure he could find the antidote in Quatre's stores. As it was, they would have to wait for her to wake up.

Giving up, Daemon ran back down the stairs, finding Weasley and Granger. "You want to help," he stated. They nodded. "Take Dorothy to the Infirmary." Satisfied that she would be helped, he teleported to the front door.

Quatre and Heero were long gone.

PLF

Heero ducked the curse flying at him and sent off one of his own. He and Quatre were at the portal to Haven—and so were about a dozen guards.

_Set to kill,_ Heero thought to Quatre, drawing out his Fury Shooter.

The next few minutes were chaos as Heero's and Quatre's Fury Shooters did their damage. A tall, bucktoothed guard got hit, but before he went down, he sent out a Fury Shooter of his own.

_They're all Vanuli!_ Heero realized, then mentally smacked himself. _Of _course_, they're Vanuli. How else would they be getting into Haven?_

The Fury Shooter went straight to Quatre. He sent out another Fury Shooter of his own, and the two met in a burst of light.

Heero took the distraction as a chance to finish off the rest of the guards. When all of them lay dead, Heero looked to Quatre, who took a deep breath and nodded.

They entered Haven.

PLF

Echo-Theta-1-1 was pleased. She and her unit—the daughters of the now defunct Theta unit—were attacking the Infirmary. _So much lovely food, _the ex-Acromantula thought. Of course, she couldn't eat any of it. This food was for her master.

Echo-Theta-1-1 picked up the baby in the bassinet before her. The babe's mother, father, and other family were already captured, spun in 1-1's webbing by the door. They baby began to cry as she spun her web around her, too.

Echo-Theta 1-1 laughed.

PLF

The images assaulted Heero as he stepped into Haven. He touched a tree and yelled to Quatre. "They've taken him this way!"

The brothers ran off, not bothering to help the others in their haste to find their brother. Harry was most important. They reached the Sank portal just in time to see Balor being carried through.

They ran through, but by the time they got there, Harry and the others were gone.

Selune


End file.
